OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


/ 


f  artoell 


THE   CURIOUS    BOOK   OF    BIRDS.     Illus- 
trated.   Square  rzmo,  $1.10,  «<?/.    Postpaid, 

$1.21. 

A    POCKETFUL    OF    POSIES.     Illustrated. 

i2ino,  $1.00,  net.     Postpaid,  $1.09. 
IN  THE  DAYS  OF  GIANTS.  Illustrated.  i2mo, 

$1.10,  tut.    Postpaid,  $1.21.     School  edition, 

50  cents,  net,  postpaid. 
THE    BOOK  OF    SAINTS    AND    FRIENDLY 

BEASTS.     Illustrated.     i2mo,  $1.25. 
THE  LONESOMEST  DOLL.    Illustrated.    Sq. 

i2mo,  85  cents,  net.     Postpaid,  95  cents. 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 


The  Curious  Book  of  Birds 


Mr.  Stork  and  Miss  Heron  (page 


The  Curious  Book 
of  Birds 

By  Abbie  Farwell  Brown 


With  Illustrations 

By  E.  Boyd  Smith 


BOSTON   AND   NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

re&,  Cambridge 
1903 


COPYRIGHT    1903   BY   ABBIE   FARWELL   BROWN 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 


Published  October,  rqoj. 


THERE  #r^  ;###j  ^00/fo  written  nowadays  which 
will  tell  you  about  birds  as  folk  of  the  twentieth 
century  see  them.  They  describe  carefully  the  singer  s 
house,  his  habits,  the  number  of  his  little  wife  s  eggs, 
and  the  color  of  every  tiny  feather  on  her  pretty  wings. 
But  these  books  tell  you  nothing  at  all  about  bird- 
history;  about  what  birds  have  meant  to  all  the  gen- 
erations of  men,  women,  and  children  since  the  world 
began.  Tou  would  think,  to  read  the  words  of  the 
bird-book  men,  that  they  were  the  very  first  folk  to  see 
any  bird,  and  that  what  they  think  they  have  seen  is 
the  only  matter  worth  the  knowing. 

Now  the  interesting  facts  about  birds  we  have 
always  with  us.  We  can  find  them  out  for  ourselves, 
which  is  a  very  pleasant  thing  to  do,  or  we  can  take 
the  word  of  others,  of  which  there  is  no  lack.  But  it 
is  the  quaint  fancies  about  birds  which  are  in  dan- 
ger of  being  lost.  The  long-time  fancies  which  the 
worlds  children  in  all  lands  have  been  taught  are 
quite  as  important  as  the  every-day  facts.  They  show 
what  the  little  feathered  brothers  have  been  to  the 
children  of  men ;  how  we  have  come  to  like  some  and 


M346662 


to  dislike  others  as  we  do ;  why  the  foets  have  called 
them  by  certain  nicknames  which  we  ought  to  know ; 
and  why  a  great  many  strange  things  are  so,  in  the 
minds  of  childlike  people. 

Facts  are  not  what  one  looks  for  in  a  Curious 
Book.  Tet  it  may  be  that  some  facts  have  crept  in 
among  the  ancient  fancies  of  this  volume,  just  as  book- 
worms will  crawl  into  the  nicest  books ;  but  they  do 
not  belong  there^  and  it  is  for  these  that  the  Book 
apologizes  to  the  children.  It  has  no  apology  to  offer 
those  grown  folks  who  insist  that  facts ,  never fancies , 
are  what  children  need. 


CONTENTS 

/ 

PAGE 

THE  DISOBEDIENT  WOODPECKER  .         .       i 

(French) 

MOTHER  MAGPIE'S  KINDERGARTEN  .  6 

(Isle  of  Wight) 

THE  GORGEOUS  GOLDFINCH         .         .  14 

(Roumanian) 

KING  OF  THE  BIRDS         .         .         .         .          18 

(Gascon) 

HALCYONE          ......     27 

(Greek) 

THE  FORGETFUL  KINGFISHER  33 

(German) 

THE  WREN  WHO  BROUGHT  FIRE  .         .     39 

(French) 

How  THE  BLUEBIRD  CROSSED  ...         45 
(Samoan) 

THE  PEACOCK'S  COUSIN       .         .         .         •     49 
(Arabic,  Malay) 

THE  MASQUERADING  CROW     .         .         •         59 
(Russian) 

vii 


CONTENTS 

KING  SOLOMON  AND  THE  BIRDS  .         .     69 

(Arabic) 

THE  Pious  ROBIN  .         .         .         ..         81 

(Breton,  Basque,  Greek) 

THE  ROBIN  WHO  WAS  AN  INDIAN         ,         ,     87 

(  Ojibway) 

THE  INQUISITIVE  WOMAN       .         .         .         94 
(Roumanian) 

WHY  THE  NIGHTINGALE  WAKES  .         .         .98 
(French) 

MRS.  PARTRIDGE'S  BABIES       .         .         .       IQC 
(Greek) 

THE  EARLY  GIRL       .         .       ..         „         .109 
(Roumanian) 

How  THE  BLACKBIRD  SPOILED  HIS  COAT  .       114 
(French) 

THE  BLACKBIRD  AND  THE  Fox    .         .         .124 
(French) 

THE  DOVE  WHO  SPOKE  TRUTH       .         /        127 
(tTM) 

THE  FOWLS  ON  PILGRIMAGE        .         . 
(Greek) 

THE  GROUND-PIGEON     .        \         .         .       138 
(Malay) 

SISTER  HEN  AND  THE  CROCODILE         .         .    145 
(Congo  Negro) 

viii 


CONTENTS 

THE  THRUSH  AND  THE  CUCKOO       .         .       153 
(Roumanian,  German) 

THE  OWL  AND  THE  MOON         ...         .         .  157 

(Malay) 

THE  TUFTED  CAP  .         .         .         .         .       164 
(Ainu,  Japanese  Islands) 

THE  GOOD  HUNTER  .         .         .         .  168 

(Iroquois) 

THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MR.  STORK  AND  Miss 

HERON  ......        176 

(Russian) 

THE  PHOZNIX     .         .         .          .         .         .184 

(Egyptian) 

Seven  of  these  tales  appeared  originally  in  The  Church- 
man and  two  in  The  Congregationalist.  They  are  reprinted 
by  the  courteous  permission  of  the  publishers  of  those 
magazines. 


IX 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

MR.  STORK  AND  Miss  HERON  (page  178) 

Frontispiece 

"  NEXT  YOU  MUST  LAY  A  FEATHER  "  .10 

SUCH  A  GORGEOUS  COAT  !        .         .         .         16 
"  BLESS  ME  !  "  HE  EXCLAIMED,  "  WHOM  HAVE 

WE  HERE  ?  "       .  .  .  .  .  64 

HERE  ARE  SOME  NICE  FAT  WIGGLY  WORMS   106 

HE  MANAGED  TO  FLUTTER  OUT  OF  REACH  126 

"  O  BROTHER,  DON'T  !  "      .         .         .         .148 
PUTRI  BALAN  BEGAN  TO  LAUGH  160 


The  Curious  Book  of  Birds 


"  Not  you  alone,  proud  truths  of  the  world, 
Not  you  alone,  ye  facts  of  modern  science, 
But  myths  and  fables  of  eld,  Asia's,  Africa's  fables." 

Whitman. 


The  Curious  Book 
of  Birds 
,/'"   * 

THE  DISOBEDIENT   WOODPECKER 


ONG,  long  ago,  at  the  beginning  of 
things,  they  say  that  the  Lord  made  the 
world  smooth  and  round  like  an  apple. 
There  were  no  hills  nor  mountains : 
nor  were  there  any  hollows  or  valleys  to  hold  the 
seas  and  rivers,  fountains  and  pools,  which  the 
world  of  men  would  need.  It  must,  indeed,  have 
been  a  stupid  and  ugly  earth  in  those  days,  with 
no  chance  for  swimming  or  sailing,  rowing  or 
fishing.  But  as  yet  there  was  no  one  to  think  any- 
thing about  it,  no  one  who  would  long  to  swim, 
sail,  row,  and  fish.  For  this  was  long  before  men 
were  created. 

The  Lord  looked  about  Him  at  the  flocks  of 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

newly  made  birds,  who  were  preening  their  wings 
and  wondering  at  their  own  bright  feathers,  and 
said  to  Himself,  — 

"  I  will  make  these  pretty  creatures  useful,  from 
the  very  beginning,  so  that  in  after  time  men  shall 
love  them  dearly.  Come,  my  birds,"  He  cried, 
"  come  hither  to  me,  and  with  the  beaks  which  I 
have  given  you  hollow  me  out  here,  and  here, 
and  here,  basins  for  the  lakes  and  pools  which  I 
intend  to  fill  with  water  for  men  and  for  you, 
their  friends.  Come,  little  brothers,  busy  your- 
selves as  you  would  wish  to  be  happy  hereafter." 

Then  there  was  a  twittering  and  fluttering  as 
the  good  birds  set  to  work  with  a  will,  singing 
happily  over  the  work  which  their  dear  Lord  had 
given  them  to  do.  They  pecked  and  they  pecked 
with  their  sharp  little  bills;  they  scratched  and 
they  scratched  with  their  sharp  little  claws,  till  in 
the  proper  places  they  had  hollowed  out  great 
basins  and  valleys  and  long  river  beds,  and  little 
holes  in  the  ground. 

Then  the  Lord  sent  great  rains  upon  the  earth 
until  the  hollows  which  the  birds  had  made  were 
filled  with  water,  and  so  became  rivers  and  lakes, 
little  brooks  and  fountains,  just  as  we  see  them  to- 
day. Now  it  was  a  beautiful,  beautiful  world,  and 
the  good  birds  sang  happily  and  rejoiced  in  the 


THE  DISOBEDIENT  WOODPECKER 

work  which  they  had  helped,  and  in  the  sparkling 
water  which  was  sweet  to  their  taste. 

All  were  happy  except  one.  The  Woodpecker 
had  taken  no  part  with  the  other  busy  birds.  She 
was  a  lazy,  disobedient  creature,  and  when  she 
heard  the  Lord's  commands  she  had  only  said, 
"  Tut  tut ! "  and  sat  still  on  the  branch  where  she 
had  perched,  preening  her  pretty  feathers  and  ad- 
miring her  silver  stockings.  "  You  can  toil  if  you 
want  to,"  she  said  to  the  other  birds  who  wondered 
at  her,  "  but  I  shall  do  no  such  dirty  work.  My 
clothes  are  too  fine." 

Now  when  the  world  was  quite  finished  and 
the  beautiful  water  sparkled  and  glinted  here  and 
there,  cool  and  refreshing,  the  Lord  called  the  birds 
to  Him  and  thanked  them  for  their  help,  praising 
them  for  their  industry  and  zeal.  But  to  the  Wood- 
pecker He  said,  — 

"  As  for  you,  O  Woodpecker,  I  observe  that 
your  feathers  are  unruffled  by  work  and  that  there 
is  no  spot  of  soil  upon  your  beak  and  claws.  How 
did  you  manage  to  keep  so  neat  *?  " 

The  Woodpecker  looked  sulky  and  stood  upon 
one  leg. 

"  It  is  a  good  thing  to  be  neat,"  said  the  Lord, 
"  but  not  if  it  comes  from  shirking  a  duty.  It  is 
good  to  be  dainty,  but  not  from  laziness.  Have 

3 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

you  not  worked  with  your  brothers  as  I  com- 
manded you  ?  " 

"  It  was  such  very  dirty  work,"  piped  the  Wood- 
pecker crossly ;  "  I  was  afraid  of  spoiling  my 
pretty  bright  coat  and  my  silver  shining  hose." 

"  Oh,  vain  and  lazy  bird  ! "  said  the  Lord  sadly. 
"  Have  you  nothing  to  do  but  show  off  your  fine 
clothes  and  give  yourself  airs  ?  You  are  no  more 
beautiful  than  many  of  your  brothers,  yet  they 
all  obeyed  me  willingly.  Look  at  the  snow-white 
Dove,  and  the  gorgeous  Bird  of  Paradise,  and  the 
pretty  Grosbeak.  They  have  worked  nobly,  yet 
their  plumage  is  not  injured.  I  fear  that  you 
must  be  punished  for  your  disobedience,  little 
Woodpecker.  Henceforth  you  shall  wear  stock- 
ings of  sooty  black  instead  of  the  shining  silver 
ones  of  which  you  are  so  proud.  You  who  were 
too  fine  to  dig  in  the  earth  shall  ever  be  pecking 
at  dusty  wood.  And  as  you  declined  to  help  in 
building  the  water-basins  of  the  world,  so  you  shall 
never  sip  from  them  when  you  are  thirsty.  Never 
shall  you  thrust  beak  into  lake  or  river,  little  rip- 
pling brook  or  cool,  sweet  fountain.  Raindrops 
falling  scantily  from  the  leaves  shall  be  your 
drink,  and  your  voice  shall  be  heard  only  when 
other  creatures  are  hiding  themselves  from  the 
approaching  storm." 

4 


THE  DISOBEDIENT  WOODPECKER 

It  was  a  sad  punishment  for  the  Woodpecker, 
but  she  certainly  deserved  it.  Ever  since  that  time, 
whenever  we  hear  a  little  tap-tapping  in  the  tree 
city,  we  know  that  it  is  the  poor  Woodpecker  dig- 
ging at  the  dusty  wood,  as  the  Lord  said  she 
should  do.  And  when  we  spy  her,  a  dusty  little 
body  with  black  stockings,  clinging  upright  to 
the  tree  trunk,  we  see  that  she  is  creeping,  climb- 
ing, looking  up  eagerly  toward  the  sky,  longing 
for  the  rain  to  fall  into  her  thirsty  beak.  She  is 
always  hoping  for  the  storm  to  come,  and  plain- 
tively pipes,  "  Plui-plm  !  Rain,  O  Rain  !  "  until 
the  drops  begin  to  patter  on  the  leaves. 


MOTHER  MAGPIE'S  KINDERGARTEN 

ID  you  ever  notice  how  different  are 
the  nests  which  the  birds  build  in 
springtime,  in  tree  or  bush  or  sandy 
bank  or  hidden  in  the  grass  *?  Some 
are  wonderfully  wrought,  pretty  little  homes  for 
birdikins.  But  others  are  clumsy,  and  carelessly 
fastened  to  the  bough,  most  unsafe  cradles  for  the 
feathered  baby  on  the  treetop.  Sometimes  after  a 
heavy  wind  you  find  on  the  ground  under  the  nest 
poor  little  broken  eggs  which  rolled  out  and  lost 
their  chance  of  turning  into  birds  with  safe,  safe 
wings  of  their  own.  Now  such  sad  things  as  this 
happen  because  in  their  youth  the  lazy  father  and 
mother  birds  did  not  learn  their  lesson  when  Mother 
Magpie  had  her  class  in  nest-making.  The  clum- 
siest nest  of  all  is  that  which  the  Wood-Pigeon  tries 
to  build.  Indeed,  it  is  not  a  nest  at  all,  only  the 
beginning  of  one.  And  there  is  an  old  story  about 
this,  which  I  shall  tell  you. 

In  the  early  springtime  of  the  world,  when  birds 
were  first  made,  none  of  them  —  except  Mother 
Magpie  —  knew  how  to  build  a  nest.  In  that 

6 


MOTHER    MAGPIE'S    KINDERGARTEN 

lovely  garden  where  they  lived  the  birds  went  flut- 
tering about  trying  their  new  wings,  so  interested 
in  this  wonderful  game  of  flying  that  they  forgot 
all  about  preparing  a  home  for  the  baby  birds  who 
were  to  come.  When  the  time  came  to  lay  their 
eggs  the  parents  knew  not  what  to  do.  There 
was  no  place  safe  from  the  four-legged  creatures 
who  cannot  fly,  and  they  began  to  twitter  help- 
lessly :  "  Oh,  how  I  wish  1  had  a  nice  warm  nest 
for  my  eggs ! "  "  Oh,  what  shall  we  do  for  a  home  *?  " 
"  Dear  me  !  I  don't  know  anything  about  house- 
keeping." And  the  poor  silly  things  ruffled  up 
their  feathers  and  looked  miserable  as  only  a  little 
bird  can  look  when  it  is  unhappy. 

All  except  Mother  Magpie  !  She  was  not  the 
best — oh,  no!  —  but  she  was  the  cleverest  and  wis- 
est of  all  the  birds ;  it  seemed  as  if  she  knew  every- 
thing that  a  bird  could  know.  Already  she  had 
found  out  a  way,  and  was  busily  building  a  famous 
nest  for  herself.  She  was  indeed  a  clever  bird ! 
She  gathered  turf  and  sticks,  and  with  clay  bound 
them  firmly  together  in  a  stout  elm  tree.  About 
her  house  she  built  a  fence  of  thorns  to  keep  away 
the  burglar  birds  who  had  already  begun  mischief 
among  their  peaceful  neighbors.  Thus  she  had  a 
snug  and  cosy  dwelling  finished  before  the  others 
even  suspected  what  she  was  doing.  She  popped 

7 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

into  her  new  house  and  sat  there  comfortably,  peer- 
ing out  through  the  window-slits  with  her  sharp 
little  eyes.  And  she  saw  the  other  birds  hopping 
about  and  twittering  helplessly. 

"What  silly  birds  they  are!"  she  croaked. 
"  Ha,  ha  !  What  would  they  not  give  for  a  nest 
like  mine ! " 

But  presently  a  sharp-eyed  Sparrow  spied 
Mother  Magpie  sitting  in  her  nest. 

"  Oho  !  Look  there ! "  he  cried.  "  Mother  Mag- 
pie has  found  a  way.  Let  us  ask  her  to  teach  us." 

Then  all  the  other  birds  chirped  eagerly,  "Yes, 
yes  !  Let  us  ask  her  to  teach  us  ! " 

So,  in  a  great  company,  they  came  fluttering, 
hopping,  twittering  up  to  the  elm  tree  where 
Mother  Magpie  nestled  comfortably  in  her  new 
house. 

"O  wise  Mother  Magpie,  dear  Mother  Magpie," 
they  cried,  "  teach  us  how  to  build  our  nests  like 
yours,  for  it  is  growing  night,  and  we  are  tired 
and  sleepy." 

The  Magpie  said  she  would  teach  them  if  they 
would  be  a  patient,  diligent,  obedient  class  of  little 
birds.  And  they  all  promised  that  they  would. 

She  made  them  perch  about  her  in  a  great  cir- 
cle, some  on  the  lower  branches  of  the  trees,  some 
on  the  bushes,  and  some  on  the  ground  among  the 

8 


MOTHER    MAGPIE'S   KINDERGARTEN 

grass  and  flowers.  And  where  each  bird  perched, 
there  it  was  to  build  its  nest.  Then  Mother  Mag- 
pie found  clay  and  bits  of  twigs  and  moss  and 
grass  —  everything  a  bird  could  need  to  build  a 
nest ;  and  there  is  scarcely  anything  you  can  think 
of  which  some  bird  would  not  find  very  useful. 
When  these  things  were  all  piled  up  before  her 
she  told  every  bird  to  do  just  as  she  did.  It  was 
like  a  great  big  kindergarten  of  birds  playing  at 
a  new  building  game,  with  Mother  Magpie  for 
the  teacher. 

She  began  to  show  them  how  to  weave  the  bits  of 
things  together  into  nests,  as  they  should  be  made. 
And  some  of  the  birds,  who  were  attentive  and 
careful,  soon  saw  how  it  was  done,  and  started  nice 
homes  for  themselves.  You  have  seen  what  won- 
derful swinging  baskets  the  Oriole  makes  for  his 
baby-cradle  ?  Well,  it  was  the  Magpie  who  taught 
him  how,  and  he  was  the  prize  pupil,  to  be  sure. 
But  some  of  the  birds  were  not  like  him,  nor  like 
the  patient  little  Wren.  Some  of  them  were  lazy 
and  stupid  and  envious  of  Mother  Magpie's  cosy 
nest,  which  was  already  finished,  while  theirs  was 
yet  to  do. 

As  Mother  Magpie  worked,  showing  them  how, 
it  seemed  so  very  simple  that  they  were  ashamed 
not  to  have  discovered  it  for  themselves.  So,  as  she 

9 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

went  on  bit  by  bit,  the  silly  things  pretended  that 
they  had  known  all  about  it  from  the  first  —  which 
was  very  unpleasant  for  their  teacher. 

Mother  Magpie  took  two  sticks  in  her  beak  and 
began  like  this  :  "  First  of  all,  my  friends,  you  must 
lay  two  sticks  crosswise  for  a  foundation,  thus," 
and  she  placed  them  carefully  on  the  branch  be- 
fore her. 

44  Oh  yes,  oh  yes ! "  croaked  old  Daddy  Crow,  in- 
terrupting her  rudely.  "  I  thought  that  was  the  way 
to  begin." 

Mother  Magpie  snapped  her  eyes  at  him  and 
went  on,  "  Next  you  must  lay  a  feather  on  a  bit 
of  moss,  to  start  the  walls." 

44  Certainly,  of  course,"  screamed  the  Jackdaw. 
44 1  knew  that  came  next.  That  is  what  I  told  the 
Parrot  but  a  moment  since." 

Mother  Magpie  looked  at  him  impatiently,  but 
she  did  not  say  anything.  "  Then,  my  friends,  you 
must  place  on  your  foundation  moss,  hair,  feath- 
ers, sticks,  and  grass  —  whatever  you  choose  for 
your  house.  You  must  place  them  like  this." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  the  Starling,  "  sticks  and  grass, 
every  one  knows  how  to  do  that !  Of  course,  of 
course  !  Tell  us  something  new." 

Now  Mother  Magpie  was  very  angry,  but  she 
kept  on  with  her  lesson  in  spite  of  these  rude  and 

10 


Next  you  must  lay  a  feather  " 


MOTHER    MAGPIE'S   KINDERGARTEN 

silly  interruptions.  She  turned  toward  the  Wood- 
Pigeon,  who  was  a  rattle-pated  young  thing,  and 
who  was  not  having  any  success  with  the  sticks 
which  she  was  trying  to  place. 

"  Here,  Wood-Pigeon,"  said  Mother  Magpie, 
"  you  must  place  those  sticks  through  and  across, 
criss-cross,  criss-cross,  so" 

"Criss-cross,  criss-cross,  so,"  interrupted  the 
Wood-Pigeon.  "  I  know.  That  will  do-o-o,  that 
will  do-o-o ! " 

Mother  Magpie  hopped  up  and  down  on  one 
leg,  so  angry  she  could  hardly  croak. 

"You  silly  Pigeon,"  she  sputtered,  "not  so. 
You  are  spoiling  your  nest.  Place  the  sticks 
so  !  " 

"  I  know,  I  know  !  That  will  do-o-o,  that  will 
do-o-o ! "  cooed  the  Wood-Pigeon  obstinately  in 
her  soft,  foolish  little  voice,  without  paying  the 
least  attention  to  Mother  Magpie's  directions. 

"  We  all  know  that — anything  more  *?  "  chirped 
the  chorus  of  birds,  trying  to  conceal  how  anxious 
they  were  to  know  what  came  next,  for  the  nests 
were  only  half  finished. 

But  Mother  Magpie  was  thoroughly  disgusted, 
and  refused  to  go  on  with  the  lesson  which  had 
been  so  rudely  interrupted  by  her  pupils. 

"  You  are  all  so  wise,  friends,"  she  said,  "  that 
ii 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

surely  you  do  not  need  any  help  from  me.  You 
say  you  know  all  about  it,  —  then  go  on  and  finish 
your  nests  by  yourselves.  Much  luck  may  you 
have  !  "  And  away  she  flew  to  her  own  cosy  nest 
in  the  elm  tree,  where  she  was  soon  fast  asleep, 
forgetting  all  about  the  matter. 

But  oh !  What  a  pickle  the  other  birds  were 
in !  The  lesson  was  but  half  finished,  and  most  of 
them  had  not  the  slightest  idea  what  to  do  next. 
That  is  why  to  this  day  many  of  the  birds  have 
never  learned  to  build  a  perfect  nest.  Some  do 
better  than  others,  but  none  build  like  Mother 
Magpie. 

But  the  Wood-Pigeon  was  in  the  worst  case  of 
them  all.  For  she  had  only  the  foundation  laid 
criss-cross  as  the  Magpie  had  shown  her.  And  so, 
if  you  find  in  the  woods  the  most  shiftless,  silly 
kind  of  nest  that  you  can  imagine — just  a  plat- 
form of  sticks  laid  flat  across  a  branch,  with  no 
railing  to  keep  the  eggs  from  rolling  out,  no  roof 
to  keep  the  rain  from  soaking  in  —  when  you  see 
that  foolishness,  you  will  know  that  it  is  the  nest 
of  little  Mistress  Wood-Pigeon,  who  was  too  stu- 
pid to  learn  the  lesson  which  Mother  Magpie  was 
ready  to  teach. 

And  the  queerest  part  of  all  is  that  the  birds 
blamed  the  Magpie  for  the  whole  matter,  and  have 

12 


MOTHER    MAGPIE'S   KINDERGARTEN 

never  liked  her  since.  But,  as  you  may  have 
found  out  for  yourselves,  that  is  often  the  fate 
of  wise  folk  who  make  discoveries  or  who  do 
things  better  than  others. 


THE  GORGEOUS   GOLDFINCH 

HE  Goldfinch  who  lives  in  Europe  is 
one  of  the  gaudiest  of  the  little  feath- 
ered brothers.  He  is  a  very  Joseph 
of  birds  in  his  coat  of  many  colors, 
and  folk  often  wonder  how  he  came  to  have 
feathers  so  much  more  gorgeous  than  his  kindred. 
But  after  you  have  read  this  tale  you  will  wonder 
no  longer. 

You  must  know  that  when  the  Father  first  made 
all  the  birds  they  were  dressed  alike  in  plumage 
of  sober  gray.  But  this  dull  uniform  pleased  Him 
no  more  than  it  did  the  birds  themselves,  who 
begged  that  they  might  wear  each  the  particular 
style  which  was  most  becoming,  and  by  which 
they  could  be  recognized  afar. 

So  the  Father  called  the  birds  to  Him,  one  by 
one,  as  they  stood  in  line,  and  dipping  His  brush 
in  the  rainbow  color-box  painted  each  appropri- 
ately in  the  colors  which  it  wears  to-day.  (Except, 
indeed,  that  some  had  later  adventures  which 
altered  their  original  hues,  as  you  shall  hear  in 
due  season.) 


THE  GORGEOUS  GOLDFINCH 

But  the  Goldfinch  did  not  come  with  the  other 
birds.  That  tardy  little  fellow  was  busy  elsewhere 
on  his  own  affairs  and  heeded  not  the  Father's 
command  to  fall  in  line  and  wait  his  turn  for  being 
made  beautiful. 

So  it  happened  that  not  until  the  painting  was 
finished  and  all  the  birds  had  flown  away  to  admire 
themselves  in  the  water-mirrors  of  the  earth,  did 
the  Goldfinch  present  himself  at  the  Father's  feet 
out  of  breath. 

"  O  Father  ! "  he  panted,  "  I  am  late.  But  I  was 
so  busy !  Pray  forgive  me  and  permit  me  to  have 
a  pretty  coat  like  the  others." 

"  You  are  late  indeed,"  said  the  Father  reproach- 
fully, "and  all  the  coloring  has  been  done.  You 
should  have  come  when  I  bade  you.  Do  you 
not  know  that  it  is  the  prompt  bird  who  fares 
best  *?  My  rainbow  color-box  has  been  generously 
used,  and  I  have  but  little  of  each  tint  left.  Yet 
I  will  paint  you  with  the  colors  that  I  have, 
and  if  the  result  be  ill  you  have  only  yourself  to 
blame." 

The  Father  smiled  gently  as  He  took  up  the 
brush  which  He  had  laid  down,  and  dipped  it 
in  the  first  color  which  came  to  hand.  This  He 
used  until  there  was  no  more,  when  He  began 
with  another  shade,  and  so  continued  until  the 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

Goldfinch  was  completely  colored  from  head  to 
foot.  Such  a  gorgeous  coat!  His  forehead  and 
throat  were  of  the  most  brilliant  crimson.  His 
cap  and  sailor  collar  were  black.  His  back  was 
brown  and  yellow,  his  breast  white,  his  wings 
golden  set  off  with  velvet  black,  and  his  tail  was 
black  with  white-tipped  feathers.  Certainly  there 
was  no  danger  of  his  being  mistaken  for  any  other 
bird. 

When  the  Goldfinch  looked  down  into  a  pool 
and  saw  the  reflection  of  his  gorgeous  coat,  he 
burst  out  into  a  song  of  joy.  "  I  like  it,  oh,  I  like 
it ! "  he  warbled,  and  his  song  was  very  sweet. 
"  Oh,  I  am  glad  that  I  was  late,  indeed  I  am,  dear 
Father ! " 

But  the  kind  Father  sighed  and  shook  His  head 
as  He  put  away  the  brush,  exclaiming,  "Poor  little 
Goldfinch !  You  are  indeed  a  beautiful  bird.  But 
I  fear  that  the  gorgeous  coat  which  you  wear,  and 
which  is  the  best  that  I  could  give  you,  because 
you  came  so  late,  will  cause  you  more  sorrow  than 
joy.  Because  of  it  you  will  be  chased  and  cap- 
tured and  kept  in  captivity ;  and  your  life  will  be 
spent  in  mourning  for  the  days  when  you  were  a 
plain  gray  bird." 

And  so  it  happened.  For  to  this  day  the  Gold- 
finch is  persecuted  by  human  folk  who  admire  his 

16 


Such  a  gorgeous  (oat ! 


THE  GORGEOUS  GOLDFINCH 

wonderful  plumage  and  his  beautiful  song.  He  is 
kept  captive  in  a  cage,  while  his  less  gorgeous 
brothers  fly  freely  in  the  beautiful  world  out  of 
doors. 


KING  OF   THE  BIRDS 


|NCE  upon  a  time,  when  the  world 
was  very  new  and  when  the  birds  had 
just  learned  from  Mother  Magpie 
how  to  build  their  nests,  some  one 
said,  "  We  ought  to  have  a  king.  Oh,  we  need  a 
king  of  the  birds  very  much ! " 

For  you  see,  already  in  the  Garden  of  Birds 
trouble  had  begun.  There  were  disputes  every 
morning  as  to  which  was  the  earliest  bird  who  was 
entitled  to  the  worm.  There  were  quarrels  over 
the  best  places  for  nest-building  and  over  the  fat- 
test bug  or  beetle ;  and  there  was  no  one  to  settle 
these  difficulties.  Moreover,  the  robber  birds  were 
growing  too  bold,  and  there  was  no  one  to  rule 
and  punish  them.  There  was  no  doubt  about  it ; 
the  birds  needed  a  king  to  keep  them  in  order 
and  peace. 

So  the  whisper  went  about,  "  We  must  have 
a  king.  Whom  shall  we  choose  for  our  king  2  " 

They  decided  to  hold  a  great  meeting  for  the 
election.  And  because  the  especial  talent  of  a  bird 
is  for  flying,  they  agreed  that  the  bird  who  could 

18 


KING  OF  THE  BIRDS 

fly  highest  up  into  the  blue  sky,  straight  toward 
the  sun,  should  be  their  king,  king  of  all  the 
feathered  tribes  of  the  air. 

Therefore,  after  breakfast  one  beautiful  morn- 
ing, the  birds  met  in  the  garden  to  choose  their 
king.  All  the  birds  were  there,  from  the  largest  to 
the  smallest,  chirping,  twittering,  singing  on  every 
bush  and  tree  and  bit  of  dry  grass,  till  the  noise 
was  almost  as  great  as  nowadays  at  an  election  of 
two-legged  folk  without  feathers.  They  swooped 
down  in  great  clouds,  till  the  sky  was  black  with 
them,  and  they  were  dotted  on  the  grass  like  punc- 
tuation marks  on  a  green  page.  There  were  so 
many  that  not  even  wise  Mother  Magpie  or  old 
Master  Owl  could  count  them,  and  they  all  talked 
at  the  same  time,  like  ladies  at  an  afternoon  tea, 
which  was  very  confusing. 

Little  Robin  Redbreast  was  there,  hopping  about 
and  saying  pleasant  things  to  every  one,  for  he  was 
a  great  favorite.  Gorgeous  Goldfinch  was  there, 
in  fine  feather;  and  little  Blackbird,  who  was 
then  as  white  as  snow.  There  were  the  proud  Pea- 
cock and  the  silly  Ostrich,  the  awkward  Penguin 
and  the  Dodo,  whom  no  man  living  has  ever  seen. 
Likewise  there  were  the  Jubjub  Bird  and  the  Dinky 
Bird,  and  many  other  curious  varieties  that  one 
never  finds  desc/ibed  in  die  wise  Bird  Books, — 

19 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

which  is  very  strange,  and  sad,  too,  I  think.  Yes, 
all  the  birds  were  there  for  the  choosing  of  their 
king,  both  the  birds  who  could  fly,  and  those  who 
could  not.  (But  for  what  were  they  given  wings, 
if  not  to  fly*?  How  silly  an  Ostrich  must  feel!) 

Now  the  Eagle  expected  to  be  king.  He  felt 
sure  that  he  could  fly  higher  than  any  one  else. 
He  sat  apart  on  a  tall  pine  tree,  looking  very  dig- 
nified and  noble,  as  a  future  king  should  look. 
And  the  birds  glanced  at  one  another,  nodded  their 
heads,  and  whispered,  "  He  is  sure  to  be  elected 
king.  He  can  fly  straight  up  toward  the  sun  with- 
out winking,  and  his  great  wings  are  so  strong, 
so  strong !  He  never  grows  tired.  He  is  sure  to  be 
king." 

Thus  they  whispered  among  themselves,  and  the 
Eagle  heard  them,  and  was  pleased.  But  the  little 
brown  Wren  heard  also,  and  he  was  not  pleased. 
The  absurd  little  bird!  He  wanted  to  be  king 
himself,  although  he  was  one  of  the  tiniest  birds 
there,  who  could  never  be  a  protector  to  the 
others,  nor  stop  trouble  when  it  began.  No,  in- 
deed !  Fancy  him  stepping  as  a  peacemaker  be- 
tween a  robber  Hawk  and  a  bloody  Falcon.  It  was 
they  who  would  make  pieces  of  him.  But  he 
was  a  conceited  little  creature,  and  saw  no  reason 
why  he  should  not  make  a  noble  sovereign. 

20 


KING  OF  THE  BIRDS 

"  I  am  cleverer  than  the  Eagle,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, "  though  he  is  so  much  bigger.  I  will  be  king  in 
spite  of  him.  Ha-ha !  We  shall  see  what  we  shall 
see ! "  For  the  Wren  had  a  great  idea  in  his  wee 
little  head  —  an  idea  bigger  than  the  head  itself, 
if  you  can  explain  how  that  could  be.  He  ruffled 
up  his  feathers  to  make  himself  as  huge  as  pos- 
sible, and  hopped  over  to  the  branch  where  the 
Eagle  was  sitting. 

"  Well,  Eagle,"  said  the  Wren  pompously,  "  I 
suppose  you  expect  to  be  king,  eh  *?  " 

The  Eagle  stared  hard  at  him  with  his  great 
bright  eyes.  "  Well,  if  I  do,  what  of  that  *?  "  he 
said.  "  Who  will  dispute  me  *?  " 

"I  shall,"  said  the  Wren,  bobbing  his  little 
brown  head  and  wriggling  his  tail  saucily. 

"  You ! "  said  the  Eagle.  "  Do  you  expect  to 
fly  higher  than  I  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  chirped  the  Wren,  "  I  do.  Yes,  I  do, 
do,  do!" 

"  Ho ! "  said  the  Eagle  scornfully.  "  I  am  big 
and  strong  and  brave.  I  can  fly  higher  than  the 
clouds.  You,  poor  little  thing,  are  no  bigger  than 
a  bean.  You  will  be  out  of  breath  before  we  have 
gone  twice  this  tree's  height." 

"  Little  as  I  am,  I  can  mount  higher  than  you," 
said  the  Wren. 

21 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

"What  will  you  wager,  Wren?"  asked  the 
Eagle.  "  What  will  you  give  me  if  I  win  *?  " 

"  If  you  win  you  will  be  king,"  said  the  Wren. 
"  But  beside  that,  if  you  win  I  will  give  you  my  fat 
little  body  to  eat  for  your  breakfast.  But  if  I  win, 
Sir,  I  shall  be  king,  and  you  must  promise  never, 
never,  never,  to  hurt  me  or  any  of  my  people." 

"  Very  well.  I  promise,"  said  the  Eagle  haugh- 
tily. "  Come  now,  it  is  time  for  the  trial,  you  poor 
little  foolish  creature." 

The  birds  were  flapping  their  wings  and  singing 
eagerly,  "  Let  us  begin  —  begin.  We  want  to  see 
who  is  to  be  king.  Come,  birds,  to  the  trial.  Who 
can  fly  the  highest  ?  Come ! " 

Then  the  Eagle  spread  his  great  wings  and 
mounted  leisurely  into  the  air,  straight  toward  the 
noonday  sun.  And  after  him  rose  a  number  of 
other  birds  who  wanted  to  be  king,  —  the  wicked 
Hawk,  the  bold  Albatross,  and  the  Skylark  sing- 
ing his  wonderful  song.  The  long-legged  Stork 
started  also,  but  that  was  only  for  a  joke.  "  Fancy 
me  for  a  king ! "  he  cried,  and  he  laughed  so  that 
he  had  to  come  down  again  in  a  minute.  But  the 
Wren  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  The  truth  was, 
he  had  hopped  ever  so  lightly  upon  the  Eagle's 
head,  where  he  sat  like  a  tiny  crest.  But  the  Eagle 
did  not  know  he  was  there. 

22 


KING  OF   THE  BIRDS 

Soon  the  Hawk  and  the  Albatross  and  even  the 
brave  little  Skylark  fell  behind,  and  the  Eagle 
began  to  chuckle  to  himself  at  his  easy  victory. 
"Where  are  you,  poor  little  Wren?"  he  cried 
very  loudly,  for  he  fancied  that  the  tiny  bird  must 
be  left  far,  far  below. 

"  Here  I  am,  here  I  am,  away  up  above  you, 
Master  Eagle  !  "  piped  the  Wren  in  a  weak  little 
voice.  And  the  Eagle  fancied  the  Wren  was  so 
far  up  in  the  air  that  even  his  sharp  eyes  could 
not  spy  the  tiny  creature.  "  Dear  me ! "  said  he  to 
himself.  "  How  extraordinary  that  he  has  passed 
me."  So  he  redoubled  his  speed  and  flew  on, 
higher,  higher. 

Presently  he  called  out  again  in  a  tremendous 
voice,  "  Well,  where  are  you  now  ?  Where  are 
you  now,  poor  little  Wren  *?  " 

Once  more  he  heard  the  tiny  shrill  voice  from 
somewhere  above  piping,  "  Here  I  am,  here  I  am, 
nearer  the  sun  than  you,  Master  Eagle.  Will  you 
give  up  now  ?  " 

Of  course  the  Eagle  would  not  give  up  yet.  He 
flew  on,  higher  and  higher,  till  the  garden  and  its 
flock  of  patient  birds  waiting  for  their  king  grew 
dim  and  blurry  below.  And  at  last  even  the  mighty 
wings  of  the  Eagle  were  weary,  for  he  was  far  above 
the  clouds.  "  Surely,"  he  thought,  "  now  the  Wren 

23 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

is  left  miles  behind."  He  gave  a  scream  of  triumph 
and  cried,  "Where  are  you  now,  poor  little 
Wren?  Can  you  hear  me  at  all,  down  below 
there?" 

But  what  was  his  amazement  to  hear  the  same 
little  voice  above  his  head  shrilling, "  Here  I  am, 
here  I  am,  Sir  Eagle.  Look  up  and  see  me,  look ! " 
And  there,  sure  enough,  he  was  fluttering  above 
the  Eagle's  head.  "  And  now,  since  I  have  mounted 
so  much  higher  than  you,  will  you  agree  that  I 
have  won?" 

"  Yes,  you  have  won,  little  Wren.  Let  us  de- 
scend together,  for  I  am  weary  enough,"  cried  the 
Eagle,  much  mortified ;  and  down  he  swooped,  on 
heavy,  discouraged  wings. 

"  Yes,  let  us  descend  together,"  murmured  the 
Wren,  once  more  perching  comfortably  on  the 
Eagle's  head.  And  so  down  he  rode  on  this  con- 
venient elevator,  which  was  the  first  one  invented 
in  this  world. 

When  the  Eagle  nearly  reached  the  ground, 
the  other  birds  set  up  a  cry  of  greeting. 

"  Hail,  King  Eagle ! "  they  sang.  "  How  high 
you  flew !  How  near  the  sun !  Did  he  not  scorch 
your  Majesty's  feathers  ?  Hail,  mighty  king  ! "  and 
they  made  a  deafening  chorus.  But  the  Eagle 
stopped  them. 

24 


KING  OF   THE  BIRDS 

"  The  Wren  is  your  king,  not  I,"  he  said.  "  He 
mounted  higher  than  I  did." 

"The  Wren?  Ha-ha!  The  Wren  !  We  can't 
believe  that.  The  Wren  flew  higher  than  you? 
No,  no ! "  they  all  shouted.  But  just  then  the 
Eagle  lighted  on  a  tree,  and  from  the  top  of  his 
head  hopped  the  little  Wren,  cocking  his  head 
and  ruffling  himself  proudly. 

"  Yes,  I  mounted  higher  than  he,"  he  cried,  "  for 
I  was  perched  on  his  head  all  the  while,  ha-ha! 
And  now,  therefore,  I  am  king,  small  though 
I  be." 

Now  the  Eagle  was  very  angry  when  he  saw 
the  trick  that  had  been  played  upon  him,  and  he 
swooped  upon  the  sly  Wren  to  punish  him.  But 
the  Wren  screamed,  "  Remember,  remember  your 
promise  never  to  injure  me  or  mine  ! "  Then  the 
Eagle  stopped,  for  he  was  a  noble  bird  and  never 
forgot  a  promise.  He  folded  his  wings  and  turned 
away  in  disgust. 

"Be  king,  then,  O  cheat  and  trickster!"  he 
said. 

"Cheat  and  trickster!"  echoed  the  other  birds. 
"  We  will  have  no  such  fellow  for  our  king.  Cheat 
and  trickster  he  is,  and  he  shall  be  punished.  You 
shall  be  king,  brave  Eagle,  for  without  your  strength 
he  could  never  have  flown  so  high.  It  is  you  whom 

25 


THE   CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

we  want  for  our  protector  and  lawmaker,  not  this 
sly  fellow  no  bigger  than  a  bean." 

So  the  Eagle  became  their  king,  after  all ;  and 
a  noble  bird  he  is,  as  you  must  understand,  or  he 
would  never  have  been  chosen  to  guard  our  na- 
tion's coat  of  arms.  And  besides  this  you  may  see 
his  picture  on  many  a  banner  and  crest  and  coin 
of  gold  or  silver,  so  famous  has  he  become. 

But  the  Wren  was  to  be  punished.  And  while 
the  birds  were  trying  to  decide  what  should  be 
done  with  him,  they  put  him  in  prison  in  a  mouse- 
hole  and  set  Master  Owl  to  guard  the  door.  Now 
while  the  judges  were  putting  their  heads  together 
the  lazy  Owl  fell  fast  asleep,  and  out  of  prison 
stole  the  little  Wren  and  was  far  away  before  any 
one  could  catch  him.  So  he  was  never  punished 
after  all,  as  he  richly  deserved  to  be. 

The  birds  were  so  angry  with  old  Master  Owl 
for  his  carelessness  that  he  has  never  since  dared 
to  show  his  face  abroad  in  daytime,  but  hides  away 
in  his  hollow  tree.  And  only  at  night  he  wanders 
alone  in  the  woods,  sorry  and  ashamed. 


26 


HALCYONE 


'HE  story  of  the  first  Kingfisher  is  a 
sad  one,  and  you  need  not  read  it 
unless  for  a  very  little  while  you  wish 
to  feel  sorry. 
Long,  long  ago  when  the  world  was  new,  there 
lived  a  beautiful  princess  named  Halcyone.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  old  JSolus,  King  of  the  Winds, 
and  lived  with  him  on  his  happy  island,  where  it 
was  his  chief  business  to  keep  in  order  the  four 
boisterous  brothers,  Boreas,  the  North  Wind, 
Zephyrus,  the  West  Wind,  Auster,  the  South 
Wind,  and  Eurus,  the  East  Wind.  Sometimes,  in- 
deed, ^Eolus  had  a  hard  time  of  it ;  for  the  Winds 
would  escape  from  his  control  and  rush  out  upon 
the  sea  for  their  terrible  games,  which  were  sure  to 
bring  death  and  destruction  to  the  sailors  and  their 
ships.  Knowing  them  so  well,  for  she  had  grown  up 
with  these  rough  playmates,  Halcyone  came  to 
dread  more  than  anything  else  the  cruelties  which 
they  practiced  at  every  opportunity. 

One  day  the  Prince  Ceyx  came  to  the  island  of 
King  ^Eolus.   He  was  the  son  of  Hesperus,  the 

27 


THE   CURIOUS   BOOK   OF   BIRDS 

Evening  Star,  and  he  was  the  king  of  the  great 
land  of  Thessaly.  Ceyx  and  Halcyone  grew  to 
love  each  other  dearly,  and  at  last  with  the  consent 
of  good  King  ^Eolus,  but  to  the  wrath  of  the  four 
Winds,  the  beautiful  princess  went  away  to  be  the 
wife  of  Ceyx  and  Queen  of  Thessaly. 

For  a  long  time  they  lived  happily  in  their 
peaceful  kingdom,  but  finally  came  a  day  when 
Ceyx  must  take  a  long  voyage  on  the  sea,  to  visit 
a  temple  in  a  far  country.  Halcyone  could  not 
bear  to  have  him  go,  for  she  feared  the  dangers  of 
the  great  deep,  knowing  well  the  cruelty  of  the 
Winds,  whom  King  JEolus  had  such  difficulty  in 
keeping  within  bounds.  She  knew  how  the  mis- 
chievous brothers  loved  to  rush  down  upon  ven- 
turesome sailors  and  blow  them  into  danger,  and 
she  knew  that  they  especially  hated  her  husband 
because  he  had  carried  her  away  from  the  island 
where  she  had  watched  the  Winds  at  their  terrible 
play.  She  begged  Ceyx  not  to  go,  but  he  said 
that  it  was  necessary.  Then  she  prayed  that  if  he 
must  go  he  would  take  her  with  him,  for  she  could 
not  bear  to  remain  behind  dreading  what  might 
happen. 

But  Ceyx  was  resolved  that  Halcyone  should 
not  go.  The  good  king  longed  to  take  her  with 
him ;  no  more  than  she  could  he  smile  at  the 
.  28 


HALCYONE 

thought  of  separation.  But  he  also  feared  the  sea, 
not  on  his  own  account,  but  for  his  dear  wife.  In 
spite  of  her  entreaties  he  remained  firm.  If  all  went 
well  he  promised  to  return  in  two  months'  time. 
But  Halcyone  knew  that  she  should  never  see  him 
again  as  now  he  spoke. 

The  day  of  separation  came.  Standing  heart- 
broken upon  the  shore,  Halcyone  watched  the  ves- 
sel sail  away  into  the  East,  until  as  a  little  speck  it 
dropped  below  the  horizon ;  then  sobbing  bitterly 
she  returned  to  the  palace. 

Now  the  king  and  his  men  had  completed  but 
half  their  journey  when  a  terrible  storm  arose. 
The  wicked  Winds  had  escaped  from  the  control 
of  good  old  ^Eolus  and  were  rushing  down  upon 
the  ocean  to  punish  Ceyx  for  carrying  away  the 
beautiful  Halcyone.  Fiercely  they  blew,  the  light- 
ning flashed,  and  the  sea  ran  high;  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  horrible  tumult  the  good  ship  went 
to  the  bottom  with  all  on  board.  Thus  the  fears 
of  Halcyone  were  proved  true,  and  far  from  his 
dear  wife  poor  Ceyx  perished  in  the  cruel  waves. 

That  very  night  when  the  shipwreck  occurred, 
the  sad  and  fearful  Halcyone,  sleeping  lonely  at 
home,  knew  in  a  dream  the  very  calamity  which 
had  happened.  She  seemed  to  see  the  storm  and 
the  shipwreck,  and  the  form  of  Ceyx  appeared, 

29 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

saying  a  sad  farewell  to  her.  As  soon  as  it  was 
light  she  rose  and  hastened  to  the  seashore,  trem- 
bling with  a  horrible  dread.  Standing  on  the  very 
spot  whence  she  had  last  seen  the  fated  ship,  she 
looked  wistfully  over  the  waste  of  stormy  waters. 
At  last  she  spied  a  dark  something  tossing  on  the 
waves.  The  object  floated  nearer  and  nearer,  until 
a  huge  breaker  cast  before  her  on  the  sand  the  body 
of  her  drowned  husband. 

"  O  dearest  Ceyx ! "  she  cried.  "Is  it  thus  that 
you  return  to  me  ^  "  Stretching  out  her  arms  to- 
ward him,  she  leaped  upon  the  sea  wall  as  if  she 
would  throw  herself  into  the  ocean,  which  advanced 
and  retreated,  seething  around  his  body.  But  a  dif- 
ferent fate  was  to  be  hers.  As  she  leaped  forward 
two  strong  wings  sprouted  from  her  shoulders,  and 
before  she  knew  it  she  found  herself  skimming 
lightly  as  a  bird  over  the  water.  From  her  throat 
came  sounds  of  sobbing,  which  changed  as  she  flew 
into  the  shrill  piping  of  a  bird.  Soft  feathers  now 
covered  her  body,  and  a  crest  rose  above  the  fore- 
head which  had  once  been  so  fair.  Halcyone  was 
become  a  Kingfisher,  the  first  Kingfisher  who  ever 
flew  lamenting  above  the  waters  of  the  world. 

The  sad  bird  fluttered  through  the  spray  straight 
to  the  body  that  was  tossed  upon  the  surf.  As  her 
wings  touched  the  wet  shoulders,  and  as  her  horny 

3° 


HALCYONE 

beak  sought  the  dumb  lips  in  an  attempt  to  kiss 
what  was  once  so  dear,  the  body  of  Ceyx  began  to 
receive  new  life.  The  limbs  stirred,  a  faint  color 
returned  to  the  cheeks.  At  the  same  moment  a 
change  like  that  which  had  transformed  Halcyone 
began  to  pass  over  her  husband.  He  too  was  be- 
coming a  Kingfisher.  He  too  felt  the  thrill  of  wings 
upon  his  shoulders,  wings  which  were  to  bear  him 
up  and  away  out  of  the  sea  which  had  been  his 
death.  He  too  was  clad  in  soft  plumage  with  a 
kingly  crest  upon  his  kingly  head.  With  a  faint 
cry,  half  of  sorrow  for  what  had  happened,  half  of 
joy  for  the  future  in  which  these  two  loving  ones 
were  at  least  to  be  together,  Ceyx  rose  from  the 
surf-swept  sand  where  his  lifeless  limbs  had  lain 
and  went  skimming  over  the  waves  beside  Hal- 
cyone his  wife. 

So  those  unhappy  mortals  became  the  first  king- 
fishers, happy  at  last  in  being  reunited.  So  we  see 
them  still,  flying  up  and  down  over  the  waters  of 
the  world,  royal  forms  with  royal  crests  upon  their 
heads. 

They  built  their  nest  of  the  bones  of  fish,  a  stout 
and  well-joined  basket  which  floated  on  the  waves 
as  safely  as  any  little  boat.  And  while  their  chil- 
dren, the  baby  Halcyons,  lay  in  this  rocking  cradle, 
for  seven  days  in  the  heart  of  winter,  no  storms 

31 


THE  CURIOUS    BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

ever  troubled  the  ocean  and  mariners  could  set  out 
upon  their  voyages  without  fear. 

For  while  his  little  grandchildren  rocked  in  their 
basket,  the  good  King  ^Eolus,  pitying  the  sorrows 
of  his  daughter  Halcyone,  was  always  especially 
careful  to  chain  up  in  prison  those  wicked  brothers 
the  Winds,  so  that  they  could  do  no  mischief  of 
any  kind. 

And  that  is  why  a  halcyon  time  has  come  to 
mean  a  season  of  peace  and  safety. 


THE  FORGETFUL  KINGFISHER 

|N  these  days  the  Kingfisher  is  a  sad 
and  solitary  bird,  caring  not  to  venture 
far  from  the  water  where  she  finds  her 
food.  Up  and  down  the  river  banks 
she  goes,  uttering  a  peculiar  plaintive  cry.  What 
is  she  saying,  and  why  is  she  so  restless?  The 
American  Kingfisher  is  gray,  but  her  cousin  of 
Europe  is  a  bird  of  brilliant  azure  with  a  breast  of 
rusty  red.  Therefore  it  must  have  been  the  foreign 
Kingfisher  who  was  forgetful,  as  you  shall  hear. 

Long,  long  after  the  sorrows  of  Halcyone,  the 
first  Kingfisher,  were  ended,  came  the  great  storm 
which  lasted  forty  days  and  forty  nights,  causing 
the  worst  flood  which  the  world  has  ever  known. 
That  was  a  terrible  time.  When  Father  Noah  has- 
tened to  build  his  ark,  inviting  the  animals  and 
birds  to  take  refuge  with  him,  the  Kingfisher  her- 
self was  glad  to  go  aboard.  For  even  she,  pro- 
tected by  ^Eolus  from  the  fury  of  winds  and 
waters,  was  not  safe  while  there  was  no  place  in 
all  the  world  for  her  to  rest  foot  and  weary  wing. 
So  the  Kingfisher  fluttered  in  with  the  other  birds 

33 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF   BIRDS 

and  animals,  a  strange  company !  And  there  they 
lived  all  together,  Noah  and  his  arkful  of  pets,  for 
many  weary  days,  while  the  waters  raged  and  the 
winds  howled  outside,  and  all  the  earth  was  cov- 
ered fathoms  deep  out  of  sight  below  the  waves. 

But  after  long  weeks  the  storm  ceased,  and  Father 
Noah  opened  the  little  window  in  the  ark  and  sent 
forth  the  Dove  to  see  whether  or  not  there  was 
land  visible  on  which  the  ark  might  find  rest. 
Now  after  he  had  sent  out  the  Dove,  Noah  looked 
about  him  at  the  other  birds  and  animals  which 
crowded  around  him  eagerly,  for  they  were  grow- 
ing very  restless  from  their  long  confinement,  and 
he  said,  "  Which  of  you  is  bravest,  and  will  dare 
follow  our  friend  the  Dove  out  into  the  watery 
world  *?  Ah,  here  is  the  Kingfisher.  Little  mother, 
you  at  least,  reared  among  the  winds  and  waters, 
will  not  be  afraid.  Take  wing,  O  Kingfisher,  and 
see  if  the  earth  be  visible.  Then  return  quickly 
and  bring  me  faithful  word  of  what  you  find  out 
yonder." 

Day  was  just  beginning  to  dawn  when  the  King- 
fisher, who  was  then  as  gray  as  gray,  flew  out 
from  the  little  window  of  the  ark  whence  the  Dove 
had  preceded  her.  But  hardly  had  she  left  the  safe 
shelter  of  Father  Noah's  floating  home,  when  there 
came  a  tremendous  whirlwind  which  blew  her 

34 


THE   FORGETFUL  KINGFISHER 

about  and  buffeted  her  until  she  was  almost  beaten 
into  the  waves,  which  rolled  endlessly  over  the 
face  of  the  whole  earth,  covering  the  high  hills  and 
the  very  mountains.  The  Kingfisher  was  greatly 
frightened.  She  could  not  go  back  into  the  ark, 
for  the  little  window  was  closed,  and  there  was  no 
land  anywhere  on  which  she  could  take  refuge. 
Just  think  for  a  moment  what  a  dreadful  situa- 
tion it  was !  There  was  nothing  for  her  to  do  but 
to  fly  up,  straight  up,  out  of  reach  from  the  toss- 
ing waves  and  dashing  spray. 

The  Kingfisher  was  fresh  and  vigorous,  and 
her  wings  were  strong  and  powerful,  for  she  had 
been  resting  long  days  in  the  quiet  ark,  eating 
the  provisions  which  Father  Noah  had  thought- 
fully prepared  for  his  many  guests.  So  up,  up  she 
soared,  above  the  very  clouds,  on  into  the  blue 
ether  which  lies  beyond.  And  lo !  as  she  did  so, 
her  sober  gray  dress  became  a  brilliant  blue,  the 
color  caught  from  the  azure  of  those  clear  heights. 
Higher  and  higher  she  flew,  feeling  so  free  and 
happy  after  her  long  captivity,  that  she  quite  for- 
got Father  Noah  and  the  errand  upon  which  she 
had  been  sent.  Up  and  up  she  went,  higher  than 
the  sun,  until  at  last  she  saw  him  rising  far  be- 
neath her,  a  beautiful  ball  of  fire,  more  dazzling, 
more  wonderful  than  she  had  ever  guessed. 

35 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

"  Hola ! "  she  cried,  beside  herself  with  joy  at  the 
sight.  "  There  is  the  dear  sun,  whom  I  have  not 
seen  for  many  days.  And  how  near,  how  beauti- 
ful he  is!  I  will  fly  closer  still,  now  that  I  have 
come  so  near.  I  will  observe  him  in  all  his  splendor, 
as  no  other  bird,  not  even  the  high-flying,  sharp- 
eyed  Eagle,  has  ever  seen  him." 

And  with  that  the  foolish  Kingfisher  turned  her 
course  downward,  with  such  mad,  headlong  speed 
that  she  had  scarcely  time  to  feel  what  terrible,  in- 
creasing heat  shot  from  the  sun's  rays,  until  she  was 
so  close  upon  him  that  it  was  too  late  to  escape. 
Oh,  but  that  was  a  dreadful  moment !  The  feath- 
ers on  her  poor  little  breast  were  scorched  and  set 
afire,  and  she  seemed  in  danger  not  only  of  spoiling 
her  beautiful  new  blue  dress  but  of  being  burned 
into  a  wretched  little  cinder.  Horribly  frightened 
at  her  danger,  the  Kingfisher  turned  once  more, 
but  this  time  toward  the  rolling  waters  which  cov- 
ered the  earth.  Down,  down  she  swooped,  until 
with  the  hiss  of  burning  feathers  she  splashed  into 
the  cold  wetness,  putting  out  the  fire  which  threat- 
ened to  consume  her.  Once,  twice,  thrice,  she 
dipped  into  the  grateful  coolness,  flirting  the  drops 
from  her  blue  plumage,  now  alas !  sadly  scorched. 

When  the  pain  of  her  burns  was  somewhat  re- 
lieved she  had  time  to  think  what  next  she  should 

36 


THE   FORGETFUL  KINGFISHER 

do.  She  longed  for  rest,  for  refuge,  for  Father 
Noah's  gentle,  caressing  hand  to  which  she  had 
grown  accustomed  during  those  stormy  weeks  of 
companionship  in  the  ark.  But  where  was  Father 
Noah  ?  Where  was  the  ark  ?  On  all  the  rolling 
sea  of  water  there  was  no  movement  of  life,  no 
sign  of  any  human  presence.  Then  the  Kingfisher 
remembered  her  errand,  and  how  carelessly  she 
had  performed  it.  She  had  been  bidden  to  return 
quickly;  but  she  had  wasted  many  hours  —  she 
could  not  tell  how  many  —  in  her  forgetful  flight. 
And  now  she  was  to  be  punished  indeed,  if  she 
could  not  find  her  master  and  the  ark  of  refuge. 

The  poor  Kingfisher  looked  wildly  about.  She 
fluttered  here  and  there,  backward  and  forward, 
over  the  weary  stretch  of  waves,  crying  piteously 
for  her  master.  He  did  not  answer ;  there  was  no 
ark  to  be  found.  The  sun  set  and  the  night  came 
on,  but  still  she  sought  eagerly  from  east  to  west, 
from  north  to  south,  always  in  vain.  She  could 
never  find  what  she  had  so  carelessly  lost. 

The  truth  is  that  during  her  absence  the  Dove, 
who  had  done  her  errand  faithfully,  returned  at  last 
with  the  olive  leaf  which  told  of  one  spot  upon 
the  earth's  surface  at  last  uncovered  by  the  waves. 
Then  the  ark,  blown  hither  and  thither  by  the  same 
storm  which  had  driven  the  Kingfisher  to  fly  up- 

37 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

ward  into  the  ether-blue,  had  drifted  far  and  far  to 
Mount  Ararat,  where  it  ran  aground.  And  Father 
Noah,  disembarking  with  his  family  and  all  the  as- 
sembled animals,  had  broken  up  the  ark,  intending 
there  to  build  him  a  house  out  of  the  materials 
from  which  it  was  made.  But  this  was  many,  many 
leagues  from  the  place  where  the  poor  Kingfisher, 
lonely  and  frightened,  hovered  about,  crying  pite- 
ously  for  her  master. 

And  even  when  the  waters  dried  away,  uncover- 
ing the  earth  in  many  places,  so  that  the  Kingfisher 
could  alight  and  build  herself  a  nest,  she  was  never 
happy  nor  content,  but  to  this  day  flies  up  and 
down  the  water-ways  of  the  world  piping  sadly, 
looking  eagerly  for  her  dear  master  and  for  some 
traces  of  the  ark  which  sheltered  her.  And  the  re- 
flection which  she  makes  in  the  water  below  shows 
an  azure-blue  body,  like  a  reflection  of  the  sky 
above,  with  some  of  the  breast-feathers  scorched  to 
a  rusty  red.  And  now  you  know  how  it  all  came 
about. 


THE   WREN   WHO    BROUGHT  FIRE 

JENTURIES  and  centuries  ago,  when 
men  were  first  made,  there  was  no 
such  thing  as  fire  known  in  all  the 
world.  Folk  had  no  fire  with  which 
to  cook  their  food,  and  so  they  were  obliged  to  eat 
it  raw ;  which  was  very  unpleasant,  as  you  may 
imagine !  There  were  no  cheery  fireplaces  about 
which  to  sit  and  tell  stories,  or  make  candy  or 
pop  corn.  There  was  no  light  in  the  darkness  at 
night  except  the  sun  and  moon  and  stars.  There 
were  not  even  candles  in  those  days,  to  say  nothing 
of  gas  lamps  or  electric  lights.  It  is  strange  to 
think  of  such  a  world  where  even  the  grown  folks, 
like  the  children  and  the  birds,  had  to  go  to  bed 
at  dusk,  because  there  was  nothing  else  to  do. 

But  the  little  birds,  who  lived  nearer  heaven  than 
men,  knew  of  the  fire  in  the  sun,  and  knew  also 
what  a  fine  thing  it  would  be  for  the  tribes  without 
feathers  if  they  could  have  some  of  the  magic  ele- 
ment. 

One  day  the  birds  held  a  solemn  meeting,  when 
it  was  decided  that  men  must  have  fire.  Then 

39 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

some  one  must  fly  up  to  the  sun  and  bring  a  fire- 
brand thence.  Who  would  undertake  this  danger- 
ous errand  ?  Already  by  sad  experience  the  King- 
fisher had  felt  the  force  of  the  sun's  heat,  while 
the  Eagle  and  the  Wren,  in  the  famous  flight 
which  they  had  taken  together,  had  learned  the 
same  thing.  The  assembly  of  birds  looked  at  one 
another,  and  there  was  a  silence. 

"  I  dare  not  go,"  said  the  Kingfisher,  trembling 
at  the  idea ;  "  I  have  been  up  there  once,  and  the 
warning  I  received  was  enough  to  last  me  for  some 
time." 

"  I  cannot  go,"  said  the  Peacock,  "  for  my  plum- 
age is  too  precious  to  risk." 

"  I  ought  not  to  go,"  said  the  Lark,  "  for  the 
heat  might  injure  my  pretty  voice." 

"  I  must  not  go,"  said  the  Stork,  "  for  I  have 
promised  to  bring  a  baby  to  the  King's  palace  this 
evening." 

"  I  cannot  go,"  said  the  Dove,  "  for  I  have  a  nest- 
ful  of  little  ones  who  depend  upon  me  for  food." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  the  Sparrow,  "  for  I  am  afraid." 
"  Nor  I ! "  "  Nor  I ! "  "  Nor  I ! "  echoed  the  other 
birds. 

"  I  will  not  go,"  croaked  the  Owl,  "  for  I  sim- 
ply do  not  wish  to." 

Then  up  spoke  the  little  Wren,  who  had  been 
40 


THE  WREN  WHO  BROUGHT  FIRE 

keeping  in  the  background  of  late,  because  he  was 
despised  for  his  attempt  to  deceive  the  birds  into 
electing  him  their  king. 

"  I  will  go,"  said  the  Wren.  "  I  will  go  and  bring 
fire  to  men.  I  am  of  little  use  here.  No  one  loves 
me.  Every  one  despises  me  because  of  the  trick 
which  I  played  the  Eagle,  our  King.  No  one 
will  care  if  I  am  injured  in  the  attempt.  I  will  go 
and  try." 

"  Bravely  spoken,  little  friend,"  said  the  Eagle 
kindly.  "  I  myself  would  go  but  that  I  am  the 
King,  and  kings  must  not  risk  the  lives  upon 
which  hangs  the  welfare  of  their  people.  Go  you, 
little  Wren,  and  if  you  are  successful  you  will  win 
back  the  respect  of  your  brothers  which  you  have 
forfeited." 

The  brave  little  bird  set  out  upon  his  errand 
without  further  words.  And  weak  and  delicate 
though  he  was,  he  flew  and  he  flew  up  and  up  so 
sturdily  that  at  last  he  reached  the  sun,  whence  he 
plucked  a  firebrand  and  bore  it  swiftly  in  his  beak 
back  toward  the  earth.  Like  a  falling  star  the 
bright  speck  flashed  through  the  air,  drawing  ever 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  cool  waters  of  Birdland  and 
the  safety  which  awaited  him  there.  The  other 
birds  gathered  in  a  flock  about  their  king  and 
anxiously  watched  the  Wren's  approach. 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

Suddenly  the  Robin  cried  out,  "  Alas !  He 
burns !  He  has  caught  fire  ! "  And  off  darted  the 
faithful  little  friend  to  help  the  Wren.  Sure 
enough,  a  spark  from  the  blazing  brand  had  fallen 
upon  the  plumage  of  the  Wren,  and  his  poor  little 
wings  were  burning  as  he  fluttered  piteously  down, 
still  holding  the  fire  in  his  beak. 

The  Robin  flew  up  to  him  and  said,  "  Well 
done,  brother !  You  have  succeeded.  Now  give 
me  the  fire  and  I  will  relieve  you  while  you  drop 
into  the  lake  below  us  to  quench  the  flame  which 
threatens  your  life." 

So  the  Robin  in  his  turn  seized  the  firebrand  in 
his  beak  and  started  down  with  it.  But,  like  the 
Wren,  he  too  was  soon  fluttering  in  the  blaze  of 
his  own  burning  plumage,  a  little  living  firework, 
falling  toward  the  earth. 

Then  up  came  the  Lark,  who  had  been  watch- 
ing the  two  unselfish  birds.  "  Give  me  the  brand, 
brother  Robin,"  she  cried,  "  for  your  pretty  feathers 
are  all  ablaze  and  your  life  is  in  danger." 

So  it  was  the  Lark  who  finally  brought  the  fire 
safely  to  the  earth  and  gave  it  to  mankind.  But 
the  Robin  and  the  Wren,  when  they  had  put  out 
the  flame  which  burned  their  feathers,  appeared 
in  the  assembly  of  the  birds,  and  were  greeted 
with  great  applause  as  the  heroes  of  the  day.  The 

42 


THE  WREN   WHO  BROUGHT  FIRE 

Robin's  breast  was  scorched  a  brilliant  red,  but  the 
poor,  brave  little  Wren  was  wholly  bare  of  plum- 
age. All  his  pretty  feathers  had  been  burned  away, 
and  he  stood  before  them  shivering  and  piteous. 

"  Bravo  !  little  Wren,"  cried  King  Eagle.  "  A 
noble  deed  you  have  done  this  day,  and  nobly 
have  you  won  back  the  respect  of  your  brother 
birds  and  earned  the  everlasting  gratitude  of  men. 
Now  what  shall  we  do  to  help  you  in  your  sorry 
plight  *?  "  After  a  moment's  thought  he  turned  to 
the  other  birds  and  said,  "  Who  will  give  a  feather 
to  help  patch  a  covering  for  our  brave  friend*?  " 

"  I !  "  and  "  I !  "  and  "  I ! "  and  "  I !  "  chorused 
the  generous  birds.  And  in  turn  each  came  forward 
with  a  plume  or  a  bit  of  down  from  his  breast. 
The  Robin  first,  who  had  shared  his  peril,  brought 
a  feather  sadly  scorched,  but  precious ;  the  Lark 
next,  who  had  helped  in  the  time  of  need.  The 
Eagle  bestowed  a  kingly  feather,  the  Thrush,  the 
Nightingale,  —  every  bird  contributed  except  the 
Owl. 

But  the  selfish  Owl  said,  "  I  see  no  reason 
why  I  should  give  a  feather.  Hoot !  No !  The 
Wren  brought  me  into  trouble  once,  and  I  will 
not  help  him  now.  Let  him  go  bare,  for  all  my 
aid." 

"  Shame  !  Shame  !  "  cried  the  birds  indignantly. 
43 


THE   CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

"  Old  Master  Owl,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed.  But 
if  you  are  so  selfish  we  will  not  have  you  in  our 
society.  Go  back  to  your  hollow  tree  !  " 

"  Yes,  go  back  to  your  hollow  tree,"  cried  the 
Eagle  sternly ;  "  and  when  winter  comes  may  you 
shiver  with  cold  as  you  would  have  left  the  brave 
little  Wren  to  shiver  this  day.  You  shall  ruffle 
your  feathers  as  much  as  you  like,  but  you  will 
always  feel  cold  at  heart,  because  your  heart  is 
selfish." 

And  indeed,  since  that  day  for  all  his  feathers  the 
Owl  has  never  been  able  to  keep  warm  enough  in 
his  lonely  hollow  tree. 

But  the  Wren  became  one  of  the  happiest  of  all 
the  birds,  and  a  favorite  both  with  his  feathered 
brothers  and  with  men,  because  of  his  brave  deed, 
and  because  of  the  great  fire-gift  which  he  had 
brought  from  the  sun. 


44 


HOW   THE  BLUEBIRD   CROSSED 

F  course  every  one  knows  that  the 
Bluebird  was  made  from  a  piece  of 
the  azure  sky  itself.  One  has  only  to 
match  his  wonderful  color  against  the 
April  heaven  to  be  sure  of  that  Therefore  the  lit- 
tle Bluebird  was  especially  dear  to  the  Spirit  of  the 
sky,  the  Father  in  Heaven. 

One  day  this  venturesome  little  bird  started  out 
upon  a  long  journey  across  the  wide  Pacific  Ocean 
toward  this  New  World  which  neither  Columbus 
nor  any  other  man  had  yet  discovered.  Under  him 
tossed  the  wide,  wide  sea,  rolling  for  miles  in  every 
direction,  with  no  land  visible  anywhere  on  which 
a  little  bird  might  rest  his  foot  For  this  was  also 
before  there  were  any  islands  in  all  that  stretch  of 
waters.  Soon  the  poor  little  Bluebird  became  very 
weary  and  wished  he  had  not  ventured  upon  so 
long  a  flight.  His  wings  began  to  droop  and  he 
sank  lower  and  lower  toward  the  sea  which  seemed 
eager  to  overwhelm  his  blueness  with  its  own.  He 
had  come  so  far  over  the  salty  wastes  that  he  was 
very  thirsty;  but  with  water,  water  everywhere 

45 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

there  was  not  a  drop  to  drink.  The  poor  little  bird 
glanced  despairingly  up  toward  the  blue  sky  from 
which  he  had  been  made  and  cried,  — 

"O  Spirit  of  the  blue  sky,  O  my  Father  in 
Heaven,  help  your  child  the  Bluebird!  Give 
me,  I  pray  you,  a  place  to  rest  and  refreshment 
for  my  thirsty  throat,  or  I  perish  in  the  cruel  blue 
waters ! " 

At  these  sorrowful  words  the  kind  Father  took 
pity  upon  his  little  Bluebird.  And  what  do  you 
think  ?  He  made  a  baby  earthquake  which  heaved 
a  rocky  point  of  land  up  through  the  waves,  just 
big  enough  for  a  little  bird's  perch.  It  was  a  tiny 
reef,  and  a  crack  in  the  rock  held  but  a  few  drops 
of  the  rain  which  began  to  fall ;  but  it  meant  at 
least  a  moment's  safety  and  draught  of  life  for  the 
weary  bird,  and  glad  enough  he  was  to  reach  it. 

He  had  not  been  there  long,  however,  when  a 
big  wave  almost  washed  him  away.  He  was  not 
yet  safe.  Still  he  lacked  the  rest  and  refreshment 
which  he  so  sorely  needed.  For  the  raindrops  were 
soon  turned  brackish  by  the  waves  which  dashed 
upon  the  reef  from  all  sides,  and  the  Bluebird  had 
to  keep  hopping  up  and  down  to  avoid  being 
drowned  in  the  tossing  spray.  He  was  more  tired 
than  ever,  and  this  continuous  exercise  made  him 
even  more  thirsty.  Once  more  he  prayed  to  the 

46 


HOW   THE  BLUEBIRD   CROSSED 

Father  for  help.   And  once  more  the  kind  Spirit 
of  the  Sky  heard  him  from  the  blueness. 

This  time  there  was  a  terrible  earthquake,  until 
the  sea  boiled  and  rolled  into  huge  waves  as  if 
churned  by  a  mighty  churn  at  the  very  bottom  of 
things,  and  with  a  terrified  scream  the  Bluebird 
flew  high  into  the  air. 

But  when  the  noise  and  the  rumbling  died  away 
and  once  more  the  sea  lay  calm  and  still,  what  do 
you  think  the  Bluebird  saw*?  The  great  ocean 
which  had  once  stretched  an  unbroken  sheet  of  blue 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  see  was  now  dotted  here  and 
there  by  islands,  big  islands  and  little  islands,  groups 
and  archipelagoes  of  them,  just  as  on  the  map  one 
sees  them  to-day  peppering  the  Pacific  Ocean.  Sa- 
moa came  up,  and  Tonga,  and  Tulima,  and  many 
others  with  names  quite  as  bad,  if  not  worse.  From 
one  island  to  another  the  Bluebird  flew,  finding 
rest  and  refreshment  on  each,  until  he  reached  the 
mainland  in  safety.  And  there  the  islands  re- 
main to  this  day  for  other  travelers  to  visit,  break- 
ing their  journey  from  west  to  east  or  from  east 
to  west.  There  are  forests  and  cascades,  springs 
of  fresh  and  pleasant  water,  delicious  fruits,  won- 
derful birds  and  animals,  and  finally  a  race  of 
strange,  dark  men.  (But  they  came  long,  long 
after.) 

47 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

So  the  Bluebird  crossed  the  Pacific,  folk  tell. 
Was  it  not  wonderful  how  the  kind  Father  came  to 
scatter  those  many  islands  in  the  Pacific  Ocean,  — 
stepping-stones  for  a  tiny  little  Bluebird  so  that  he 
need  not  wet  his  feet  in  crossing  that  wide  salty 
river  *? 


48 


THE   PEACOCK'S   COUSIN 

JONG,  long  ago  in  the  days  of  wise  King 
Solomon,  the  Crow  and  the  Pheasant 
were  the  best  of  friends,  and  were  al- 
ways seen  going  about  together,  wing 
in  wing.  Now  the  Pheasant  was  the  Peacock's 
own  cousin,  —  a  great  honor,  many  thought,  for 
the  Peacock  was  the  most  gorgeous  of  all  the 
birds.  But  it  was  not  altogether  pleasant  for  the 
Pheasant,  because  at  that  time  he  wore  such  plain 
and  shabby  old  garments  that  his  proud  relative 
was  ashamed  of  him,  and  did  not  like  to  be  re- 
minded that  they  were  of  the  same  family.  When 
the  Peacock  went  strutting  about  with  his  wonder- 
ful tail  spread  fan-wise,  and  with  his  vain  little 
eyes  peering  to  see  who  might  be  admiring  his 
beauty,  the  Peacock's  cousin  and  his  friend  the 
Crow,  who  was  then  a  plain  white  bird,  would 
slink  aside  and  hide  behind  a  tree,  whence  they 
would  peep  enviously  until  the  Peacock  had 
passed  by.  Then  the  Peacock's  cousin  would 
say,— 

"  Oh,  how  beautiful,  how  grand,  how  noble  he 
49 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

is !  How  came  such  a  lordly  bird  to  have  for  a 
cousin  so  homely  a  creature  as  I  ?  " 

But  the  Crow  would  answer,  trying  to  comfort 
his  friend,  "  Yes,  he  is  gorgeous.  But  listen,  what 
a  harsh  and  disagreeable  voice  he  has  !  And  see 
how  vain  he  is.  I  would  not  be  so  vain  had  I  so 
scandalous  a  tale  in  my  family  history." 

Then  the  Crow  told  the  Peacock's  cousin  how 
his  proud  relative  came  to  have  so  unmusical  a 
voice. 

When  Adam  and  Eve  were  living  peacefully 
in  their  fair  garden,  while  Satan  was  still  seeking 
in  vain  a  way  to  enter  there,  the  Peacock  was 
the  most  beautiful  of  all  the  companions  who 
surrounded  the  happy  pair.  His  plumage  shone 
like  pearl  and  emerald,  and  his  voice  was  so 
melodious  that  he  was  selected  to  sing  the  Lord's 
praises  every  day  in  the  streets  of  heaven.  But 
he  was  then,  as  now,  very,  very  vain;  and  Satan, 
prowling  about  outside  the  wall  of  Paradise,  saw 
this. 

"  Aha ! "  he  said  to  himself,  "  here  is  the  vainest 
creature  in  all  the  world.  He  is  the  one  I  must 
flatter  in  order  to  win  entrance  to  the  garden,  where 
I  am  to  work  my  mischief.  Let  me  approach  the 
Peacock." 

5o 


THE  PEACOCK'S  COUSIN 

Satan  stole  softly  to  the  gate  and  in  a  whee- 
dling voice  called  to  the  Peacock,  — 

"  O  most  wonderful  and  beautiful  bird !  Are  you 
one  of  the  birds  of  Paradise  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  one  of  the  dwellers  in  the  happy 
garden,"  answered  the  Peacock,  strutting.  "  But 
who  are  you  who  slink  about  so  secretly,  as  if 
afraid  of  some  one  *?  " 

"  I  am  one  of  the  cherubim  who  are  appointed 
to  sing  the  Lord's  praises,"  answered  the  wicked 
Satan.  "  I  have  stopped  for  a  moment  to  visit  the 
Paradise  which  He  has  prepared  for  the  blest,  and 
I  find  as  my  first  glimpse  of  its  glories  you,  O 
most  lovely  bird !  Will  you  conceal  me  under 
your  rainbow  wings  and  bring  me  within  the 
walls  2  " 

"  I  dare  not,"  answered  the  Peacock.  "  The  Lord 
allows  none  to  enter  here.  He  will  be  angry  and 
will  punish  me." 

"  O  charming  bird ! "  went  on  Satan  with  his 
smooth  tongue,  "  take  me  with  you,  and  I  will 
teach  you  three  mysterious  words  which  shall  pre- 
serve you  forever  from  sickness,  age,  and  death." 

At  this  promise  the  Peacock  was  greatly  tempted 
and  began  to  hesitate  in  his  refusals.  And  at  last 
he  said, — 

"  I  dare  not  myself  let  you  in,  O  stranger,  but 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

if  you  keep  your  promise  I  will  send  the  Serpent, 
who  is  wiser  than  I  and  who  may  more  easily  find 
some  way  to  let  you  enter  unobserved." 

So  it  was  through  the  Peacock  that  Satan  met 
the  vile  Serpent,  whose  shape  he  assumed  in  order 
to  enter  the  garden  and  tempt  Eve  with  the  ap- 
ple. And  for  the  Peacock's  share  in  the  doings  of 
that  dreadful  day  the  Lord  took  away  his  beautiful 
voice  and  sent  him  forth  from  the  pleasant  garden 
to  chatter  harshly  in  this  workaday  world,  where 
his  gorgeousness  and  his  vanity  are  but  a  reminder 
to  men  of  the  shame  which  he  brought  upon  their 
ancestors. 

"  And  therefore,"  said  the  Crow,  concluding  his 
gossip,  "  therefore,  dear  Pheasant,  I  see  no  reason 
why  we  should  envy  your  cousin.  We  are  very 
plain  citizens  of  Birdland,  but  we  are  at  least  re- 
spectable. I  like  you  much  better,  having  no- 
thing to  make  you  vain,  nothing  of  which  to  be 
ashamed." 

So  the  Crow  spoke,  in  the  wisdom  which  he 
had  learned  from  Solomon.  But  the  Peacock's 
cousin  refused  to  be  comforted.  The  shabbiness 
of  his  coat  preyed  upon  his  mind,  and  he  fan- 
cied that  the  other  birds  jeered  at  him  because  in 

52 


THE  PEACOCK'S  COUSIN 

such  old  clothes  he  dared  to  be  the  Peacock's 
cousin.  It  seemed  to  him  that  every  day  the  Pea- 
cock himself  grew  more  haughty  and  more 
patronizing. 

One  day  the  Crow  and  the  Peacock's  cousin 
were  sauntering  through  the  Malay  woods  when 
they  met  the  Peacock  face  to  face.  The  Crow 
looked  defiant  and  stood  jauntily;  but  the  Pheas- 
ant tried  to  shrink  out  of  sight.  The  Peacock, 
however,  had  spied  his  poor  relative,  and  was  filled 
with  cousinly  resentment  at  his  appearance. 

He  stopped  short.  He  stood  upon  one  leg. 
He  puffed  and  ruffled  himself,  spreading  out  his 
thousand-eyed  tail  so  that  its  colors  flashed  won- 
derfully in  the  sunshine.  He  frilled  his  neck  feath- 
ers and  snapped  his  mean  little  eyes  maliciously; 
then  turning  his  back  on  the  shabby  couple  said, 
as  he  stepped  airily  away,  — 

"  Ah,  I  have  dropped  some  of  my  old  feathers 
back  there  a  little  way.  You  can  have  them  if 
you  like,  Pheasant.  They  will  freshen  you  up  a 
bit ;  you  really  are  looking  shockingly  seedy.  But 
for  mercy's  sake  don't  wear  them  in  my  presence ! 
I  can't  bear  to  see  any  one  parading  in  my  cast-off 
elegance."  Then  the  Peacock  minced  away. 

The  Peacock's  cousin  stamped  on  the  ground 
and  flapped  his  wings  with  rage.  If  he  had  been 

53 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

a  girl  he  would  have  burst  into  tears.  "  I  cannot 
stand  this,"  he  cried.  "  To  be  treated  as  if  I  were  a 
beggar !  To  be  given  old  clothes  to  wear !  Crow, 
Crow,  if  you  were  any  kind  of  friend  you  would 
help  me.  But  you  stand  staring  there  and  see  me 
insulted,  without  turning  a  feather !  What  is  the 
use  of  all  your  wisdom  that  you  learned  from 
King  Solomon  if  you  cannot  help  a  friend  in 
need?  I  tell  you,  I  must  have  some  better  gar- 
ments, or  I  shall  die  of  mortification." 

"  Don't  be  excited,"  said  the  Crow  soothingly. 
"  I  have  been  thinking  the  matter  over,  and  I  be- 
lieve I  can  do  something.  Listen.  Yesterday  I 
found  brushes  and  a  box  of  colors  in  a  room  of 
the  King's  palace.  They  belonged  to  the  Court 
Painter.  Now  they  belong  to  me,  for  I  have  hid- 
den them  away  in  a  hollow  tree  where  no  one  else 
can  find  them.  I  thought  they  might  be  useful, 
and  I  think  so  still." 

"  Well,  well !  What  do  you  propose  to  do 
with  paints  and  brushes?"  cried  the  Peacock's 
cousin  impatiently. 

"  I  propose  to  paint  you,  to  varnish  you,  to  gild 
you,"  patiently  answered  the  Crow. 

"  Oh,  you  dear  Crow ! "  exclaimed  the  other, 
clapping  his  wings.  "  You  will  make  me  brilliant 
and  beautiful !  You  will  make  me  worthy  of  the 

54 


THE  PEACOCK'S  COUSIN 

Peacock,  will  you  not  *?  How  clever  of  you  to 
think  of  such  a  thing !  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Crow ;  "  I  watched  the  Court 
Painter  at  work  in  the  garden  one  day,  and  I  know 
how  it  is  done.  I  will  make  you  as  gorgeous  as 
you  wish.  But  you  must  return  the  compliment. 
If  you  are  to  be  an  ornament  of  fashion,  so  must 
I  be;  for  are  we  not  inseparable  cronies?  And 
when  you  become  beautiful  it  would  not  do  for 
you  to  be  seen  with  such  a  dowdy  as  I  am." 

"  You  dear  creature !  "  said  the  Peacock's  cousin 
affectionately ;  "  of  course  we  will  share  alike.  I 
will  paint  you  as  soon  as  I  see  how  you  succeed 
with  me.  Ah,  I  know  your  skill  in  everything. 
You  will  be  a  fine  artist,  my  friend !  But  come, 
let  us  get  to  work  at  once." 

So  the  flattered  Crow  led  him  to  the  hollow 
tree  where  he  had  concealed  the  brushes  and  the 
gilding  and  the  India  ink,  and  all  the  gorgeous 
changeable  tints  which  an  Eastern  artist  uses  in  his 
paintings.  "  Here  we  are,"  said  the  Crow.  "  Now 
let  us  see  what  we  shall  see,  when  Master  Crow 
turns  painter." 

The  Crow  set  to  work  with  a  will,  splashing  on 
the  colors  generously,  gold  and  green  and  bronze 
iridescence.  He  had  the  Peacock  in  mind,  and 
though  he  did  not  exactly  copy  the  plumage  of 

55 


THE   CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

that  wonderful  bird,  he  managed  to  suggest  the 
cousinship  of  the  Pheasant  in  the  golden  eyes  of 
his  long  and  beautiful  tail.  When  he  had  finished, 
the  Crow  was  delighted  with  his  work. 

"  Ah !  "  he  cried.  "  Now  bend  over  this  fountain, 
my  dear  friend,  and  observe  yourself.  I  think  you 
do  credit  to  my  skill  as  an  artist,  eh  ?  " 

The  Peacock's  cousin  hurried  down  to  the  water- 
pool,  all  in  a  flutter  of  excitement.  And  when  he 
saw  his  image  he  cried,  "  How  beautiful,  how 
truly  beautiful,  I  am  !  Why,  I  am  quite  as  hand- 
some as  Peacock  himself.  Surely,  now  he  need 
not  be  ashamed  to  call  me  cousin.  I  shall  move 
in  the  most  fashionable  circles.  Heavens !  Look 
at  my  lovely  tail !  Look  at  my  burnished  feathers ! 
I  must  go  immediately  and  show  my  new  dress 
to  Cousin  Peacock.  I  should  not  be  surprised  if 
he  became  jealous  of  my  gorgeousness."  And  off 
he  started  as  fast  as  he  could  go. 

"  Hold  on ! "  cried  the  Crow.  "  Don't  run  away 
so  quickly.  You  have  forgotten  something.  Don't 
you  remember  that  you  promised  to  paint  me 
beautiful  like  yourself?" 

"Oh,  bother!"  answered  the  ungrateful  friend, 
tossing  his  head.  "  I  have  no  time  now  for  such 
business.  I  must  hasten  to  my  cousin,  for  this  is  a 
matter  of  family  pride.  Run  along  like  a  good 

56 


THE   PEACOCK'S  COUSIN 

creature ;  and  by  the  way,  you  may  as  well  gather 
the  feathers  which  Peacock  mentioned.  I  am  sure 
they  will  make  you  look  quite  respectable.  Be- 
sides, I  will  give  you  some  of  mine  when  I  have 
worn  them  a  little.  Ta-ta!"  And  he  stepped 
airily  away. 

But  the  Crow  strode  after  him,  shaking  his 
wings  and  crying,  "  Come  back,  come  back  and 
perform  your  part  of  the  bargain,  you  selfish,  un- 
grateful creature ! "  And  he  caught  the  Pheasant 
by  one  of  his  long  tail-feathers. 

"  Let  go  my  train,  impertinent  wretch ! "  shrieked 
the  Peacock's  cousin,  turning  upon  him  fiercely. 
"I  tell  you  I  have  no  time  to  spend  in  such 
nonsense.  I  must  be  presenting  myself  in  high 
society." 

"Villain!"  croaked  the  Crow,  and  he  rushed 
forward  fiercely,  intending  to  tear  out  the  beautiful 
feathers  which  he  had  painted  for  his  ungrateful 
friend.  Thereupon  the  Pheasant  exclaimed,  — 

"  You  want  to  be  painted,  do  you  ?  Well, 
take  that  I "  and,  seizing  the  bottle  of  India  ink 
which  was  in  the  Eastern  artist's  paint-box,  he 
hurled  it  at  the  poor  Crow,  deluging  with  black- 
ness his  spotless  feathers.  Then  laughing  harshly, 
away  he  flew  to  his  cousin  the  Peacock,  who  re- 
ceived him  with  proud  affection,  because  they 

57 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

were  now  really  birds  of  a  feather.  For  the  Pea- 
cock's cousin  was  become  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful birds  in  the  world. 

But  the  poor  Crow  was  now  a  sombre,  black 
bird,  wearing  the  seedy-looking,  inky  coat  which 
we  know  so  well  to-day.  His  heart  was  broken 
by  his  friend's  faithlessness,  and  he  became  a  sour 
cynic  who  can  see  no  good  in  anything.  He 
flies  about  crying  "  Caw !  Caw ! "  in  the  most 
disagreeable,  sarcastic  tone,  as  if  sneering  at  the 
mean  action  of  that  Malay  bird,  which  he  can 
never  forget. 


II    .        *          ..-.    .. 

THE   MASQUERADING  CROW 

>" 

'HE  Crow  became  very  sour  and  dis- 
agreeable after  his  friend  the  Peacock's 
cousin  deserted  him  for  more  gorgeous 
company.  Though  he  pretended  not 
to  care  because  the  Pheasant  was  now  a  proud, 
beautifully-coated  dandy,  while  he  was  the  shab- 
biest of  all  the  birds  in  his  coat  of  rusty  black,  yet 
in  truth  he  did  care  very  much.  He  could  not  for- 
get how  the  Peacock's  cousin  had  dyed  him  this 
sombre  hue,  after  promising  to  paint  him  bright 
and  wonderful,  like  himself.  He  could  not  help 
thinking  how  fine  he  would  have  looked  in  simi- 
lar plumage  of  a  rainbow  tint,  or  how  becoming  a 
long  swallow-tail  would  be  to  his  style  of  beauty. 
He  wished  that  there  was  a  tailor  in  Birdland  to 
whom  he  could  go  for  a  new  suit  of  clothes.  But 
alas  !  There  seemed  no  way  but  for  him  to  remain 
ugly  old  Crow  to  the  end  of  the  chapter. 

The  Crow  went  moping  about  most  unhappily 
while  this  was  preying  on  his  mind,  until  he  really 
became  somewhat  crazy  upon  the  subject.  The 
only  thing  about  which  he  could  think  was  clothes 

59 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK   OF   BIRDS 

—  clothes  —  clothes ;  and  that  is  indeed  a  foolish 
matter  to  absorb  one's  mind.  One  word  of  the 
Peacock's  cousin  remained  in  his  memory  and  re- 
fused to  be  forgotten.  He  had  advised  the  Crow 
to  gather  up  the  feathers  which  had  fallen  from  the 
Peacock's  plumage  and  to  make  himself  fine  with 
them.  First  the  Crow  remembered  these  words 
sadly,  because  they  showed  the  unkind  heart  of  his 
old  friend.  Next  he  remembered  them  with  scorn, 
because  they  showed  vanity.  Then  he  remembered 
them  with  interest  because  they  gave  him  an  idea. 
And  that  idea  gradually  grew  bigger  and  bigger 
until  it  became  a  plan. 

The  plan  came  to  him  completely  one  day  while 
he  was  sitting  moodily  on  a  tree  watching  the  Pea- 
cock and  his  cousin  sweeping  proudly  over  the 
velvet  lawn  of  the  King's  garden.  For  nowadays 
the  Pheasant  moved  in  the  most  courtly  circles, 
as  he  had  promised  himself.  As  they  passed  under 
the  Crow  two  beautiful  feathers  fell  behind  them 
and  lay  on  the  grass  shining  in  the  sunlight  with 
a  hundred  colors. 

"  Once  more  the  cast-off  plumage  of  the  Peacock 
family  is  left  for  me ! "  croaked  the  Crow  to  him- 
self. "  Am  I  only  to  be  made  beautiful  by  borrow- 
ing from  others  *?  Perhaps  I  might  collect  feathers 
enough  from  all  the  birds  to  conceal  my  inky  coat 

60 


THE  MASQUERADING  CROW 

Aha !  I  have  it."  And  this  was  the  plan  of  the 
Crow.  He  would  steal  from  every  dweller  in  Bird- 
land  a  feather,  and  see  whether  he  could  not  make 
himself  more  beautiful  than  the  Peacock's  cousin 
himself. 

Now  the  Crow  was  a  skilful  thief.  He  could 
steal  the  silver  off  the  King's  table  from  under 
the  steward's  very  nose.  He  could  steal  a  maid's 
thimble  from  her  finger  as  she  nodded  sleepily 
over  her  work.  He  could  steal  the  pen  from  be- 
hind a  scribe's  ear,  as  he  paused  to  scratch  his  head 
and  think  over  the  spelling  of  a  word.  So  tfie 
Crow  felt  sure  that  he  could  steal  their  feathers 
from  the  birds  without  any  trouble. 

When  the  Peacock  and  his  cousin  had  passed 
by,  the  Crow  swooped  down  and  carried  off  the 
two  feathers  which  were  to  begin  his  collection. 
He  hid  them  in  his  treasure-house  in  the  hollow 
tree,  and  started  out  for  more. 

It  was  great  fun  for  the  Crow,  and  he  almost 
forgot  to  be  miserable.  He  followed  old  lady 
Ostrich  about  for  some  time  before  he  dared  tweak 
a  handful  of  feathers  from  her  tail.  But  finally  he 
succeeded ;  and  though  she  squawked  horribly  and 
turned,  quick  as  a  flash,  she  was  not  quick  enough 
to  catch  the  nimble  thief,  who  was  already  hidden 
under  a  bush.  In  the  same  way  he  secured  some 

61 


THE   CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

lovely  plumes  from  the  Bird  of  Paradise,  the  Par- 
rot, and  the  Cock.  He  robbed  the  Redbreast  of 
his  ruddy  vest,  the  Hoopoe  of  his  crown,  and  he 
secured  a  swallow-tail  which  he  had  long  coveted. 
He  took  some  rosy-redness  from  the  Flamingo,  the 
gilding  of  the  Goldfinch,  the  gray  down  of  an 
Eider-Duck.  He  burgled  the  Bluebird  and  the 
Redbird  and  the  Yellowbird;  and  not  one  single 
feathered  creature  escaped  his  clever  beak.  At  last 
his  hole  in  the  tree  was  brimming  with  feathers 
of  every  color,  length,  and  degree  of  softness,  a 
gorgeous  feather-bed  on  which  it  would  dazzle 
one  to  sleep. 

Then  the  Crow  set  to  work  to  make  himself  a 
coat  of  many  colors,  like  Joseph's.  He  was  a  very 
clever  bird,  and  a  wondrous  coat  it  turned  out  to 
be.  It  had  no  particular  cut  nor  style ;  it  was  not 
like  the  coat  which  any  bird  had  ever  before  worn. 
The  feathers  were  placed  in  any  fashion  that  hap- 
pened to  please  his  original  fancy.  Some  pointed 
up  and  some  down;  some  were  straight  and  some 
were  curled;  some  drooped  about  his  feet  and 
others  curved  gracefully  over  his  head ;  some  trailed 
far  behind.  He  was  completely  covered  from  top 
to  toe,  so  that  not  one  blot  of  his  own  inky  feath- 
ers showed  through  the  gorgeousness.  A  red  vest 
he  wore,  and  a  swallow-tail,  of  course,  and  there 

62 


THE  MASQUERADING   CROW 

was  a  crown  of  feathers  on  his  head.  Never  was 
there  seen  a  more  extraordinary  bird  nor  one  more 
gaudy.  Perhaps  he  was  not  in  the  best  of  taste, 
but  at  least  he  was  striking. 

When  all  was  finished  the  Crow  went  and  looked 
at  himself  in  the  fountain  mirror;  and  he  was  much 
pleased. 

"  Well  now  ! "  he  cried.  "  How  am  I  for  a  bird  ? 
I  believe  no  one  will  know  me,  and  that  is  just  as 
well ;  for  now  I  am  so  fine  that  I  shall  myself  re- 
fuse to  know  any  one.  Ho  !  This  ought  to  give 
some  ideas  to  that  conceited  Peacock  family !  I 
am  a  self-made  man.  I  am  an  artist  who  knows 
how  to  adapt  his  materials.  I  am  a  genius.  King 
Solomon  himself  will  wonder  at  my  glory.  And 
as  for  the  Eagle,  King  of  the  Birds,  he  will  grow 
pale  with  envy.  King  of  the  Birds,  indeed !  It  is 
now  I  who  should  rightfully  be  King.  No  other 
ever  wore  clothes  so  fine  as  mine.  By  right  of  them 
I  ought  to  be  King  of  the  Birds.  I  will  be  King 
of  the  Birds!" 

You  see  the  poor  old  Crow  was  quite  crazy  with 
his  one  idea. 

Forth  he  stalked  into  Birdland  to  show  his  gor- 
geous plumage  and  to  get  himself  elected  King  of 
the  Birds.  The  first  persons  he  met  were  the  Pea- 
cock and  his  cousin,  —  he  who  was  once  the  Crow's 

63 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

best  friend.  The  Crow  ruffled  himself  his  prettiest 
when  he  saw  them  coming. 

"  Good  gracious !  Who  is  that  extraordinary 
fowl  ?  "  drawled  the  Peacock.  "  He  must  be  some 
great  noble  from  a  far  country." 

"  How  beautiful ! "  murmured  his  silly  cousin. 
"How  odd!  How  fascinating!  How  distin- 
guished !  I  wish  the  Crow  had  painted  me  like 
that ! "  The  Crow  heard  these  words  and  swelled 
with  pride,  casting  a  scornful  glance  at  his  old 
friend  as  he  swept  by. 

Next  he  met  a  little  Sparrow  who  was  picking 
bugs  from  the  grass.  "  Out  of  my  way,  Birdling !  " 
cried  the  Crow  haughtily.  "  I  am  the  King." 

"The  King!"  gasped  the  Sparrow,  nearly 
choking  over  a  fat  bug,  he  was  so  surprised.  "  I 
did  not  know  that  the  King  wore  such  a  robe. 
How  gorgeous  —  but  how  queer !  " 

Next  the  Crow  met  Mr.  Stork,  standing  gravely 
on  one  leg  and  thinking  of  the  little  baby  which 
he  was  going  to  bring  that  night  to  the  cottage  by 
the  lake.  The  Stork  looked  up  in  surprise  as  the 
wonderful  stranger  approached. 

"  Bless  me ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  whom  have  we 
here  ?  I  thought  I  knew  all  Birdland,  but  I  never 
before  saw  such  a  freak  as  this !" 

"I  am  the  King.  I  am  to  be  the  new  King," 
64 


Bless  me  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  whom  have  we  here?  >s 


THE   MASQUERADING  CROW 

announced  the  Crow.  "Is  there  any  bird  more 
gorgeous  than  I  ?  " 

"Truly,  I  hope  not,"  said  the  Stork  gravely. 
"  Yet  the  Woodcock  is  a  very  foolish  bird.  One 
never  knows  what  he  will  do  next.  If  he  should 
try  to  be  fashionable  "  — 

But  the  Crow  had  passed  on  without  listening 
to  the  Stork's  sarcasm. 

As  he  went  through  Birdland  he  drew  behind 
him  a  following  of  feathered  citizens,  chattering, 
screaming,  tittering  all  together  like  the  crowd 
after  a  circus  procession.  All  the  birds,  big  and 
little,  plain  and  pretty,  flocked  to  see  this  wonder- 
ful stranger  who  because  of  his  fine  clothes  was 
coming  to  have  himself  named  King.  Some  of 
them  thought  him  truly  beautiful,  some  thought 
him  ridiculous;  some  envied  him,  some  jeered. 
But  they  all  stared ;  and  the  more  they  stared  the 
more  conceited  became  the  Crow,  the  more  sure 
that  the  kingdom  was  to  be  his. 

At  last  they  came  into  the  presence  of  the  Eagle 
himself.  That  royal  bird  was  perched  upon  his 
eyrie  far  up  on  the  cliff.  Below  him  gathered  the 
dense  flock  of  birds,  waiting  to  see  what  would 
happen  when  the  Crow  demanded  to  be  made 
King  in  the  Eagle's  place.  The  Eagle  had  been 
warned  of  the  matter  by  the  little  Humming-Bird, 

65 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

and  was  looking  very  majestic  and  scornful.  But 
the  Swallow  flew  round  and  round  in  great  circles, 
twittering  excitedly,  and  in  each  circle  sweeping 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  ground.  The  Swallow 
was  angry  because  some  one  had  stolen  his  beau- 
tiful swallow-tail. 

Presently  the  Crow  swaggered  forth,  and  cock- 
ing his  impertinent  eye  towards  the  Eagle  he 
croaked,  — 

"  Hello  there,  Old  High-perch !  Give  me  your 
crown  and  sceptre,  for  I  am  King  of  the  Birds, 
not  you.  Look  at  my  gorgeous  clothes ;  look  at 
your  own  dull  plumage.  Am  I  not  kingly^ — 
look  at  me." 

The  King  made  no  reply,  merely  gazing  sternly 
at  the  Crow.  But  the  Swallow  took  up  the  word. 

"  Look  at  him,  look  at  him  indeed,  O  King ! " 
he  screamed.  "  There  is  something  strange  about 
his  kingly  plumage.  That  swallow-tail  is  mine,  I 
know  it ! "  And  with  a  vicious  tweak  the  Swallow 
pulled  out  the  long  forked  feathers  of  which  the 
Crow  was  especially  proud.  Oh,  what  a  shriek  of 
rage  the  mad  old  bird  gave !  At  that  moment  the 
Hoopoe  came  up  and  said,  "  Ha !  Methinks  I  too 
recognize  my  property.  This  is  my  crown,"  and 
forthwith  he  snatched  the  plumes  from  the  Crow's 
forehead,  leaving  it  quite  ugly  and  bare.  Next  the 

66 


THE  MASQUERADING  CROW 

gentle  Redbreast  claimed  his  vest,  and  the  Blue- 
bird her  azure  feathers,  and  the  Ostrich  her  train 
which  she  had  sorely  missed.  Each  of  the  birds 
in  turn  came  up  and  with  much  chattering  and 
scolding  twitched  away  the  property  of  which  he 
or  she  had  been  robbed,  until  the  Crow  stood  be- 
fore them  in  his  customary  suit  of  solemn  black, 
a  bird  ashamed  and  sore.  For  they  had  pecked 
him  with  their  bills  and  beaten  him  with  their 
wings  and  scratched  him  with  their  claws  until 
even  his  own  plain  old  coat  was  frayed  and  rent. 

"  Oh  ho,  oh  ho !  It  is  only  old  Daddy  Crow, 
after  all !  "  screamed  the  birds  in  chorus.  And 
then,  because  the  Eagle  burst  out  laughing,  they 
saw  that  it  was  really  funny.  Since  the  King  did 
not  mind  being  robbed  for  a  time  of  his  title, 
surely  they  need  not  mourn  over  the  few  feathers 
which  the  thief  had  borrowed,  especially  since  each 
now  had  his  own.  Chattering  with  glee  they  all 
flew  home  to  their  various  nests,  leaving  the  Crow 
alone  with  his  shame  and  soreness. 

Just  at  this  moment  the  Peacock  and  his  cousin 
came  hurrying  up  out  of  breath. 

"  Oh,  what  is  it  *?  What  is  the  matter  *?  What 
was  all  that  noise  just  now  *?  "  asked  the  Peacock. 

"  Oh,  what  has  become  of  the  beautiful,  noble, 
splendid,  remarkable,  graceful,  gorgeous,  stylish, 

67 


THE   CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

long-tailed,  kingly  stranger1?"  questioned  the 
Peacock's  cousin,  speaking  affably  to  the  Crow, 
for  the  first  time  since  his  adoption  into  high 
society. 

The  Crow  looked  at  him  sideways,  and  all  his 
madness  went  away  as  he  saw  how  very,  very 
silly  this  creature  was. 

"  He  was  a  fool  in  fools'  feathers,"  he  croaked. 
"  He  is  no  more.  But  before  the  end  he  bade  me 
return  these  to  you,  saying,  '  Fine  feathers  do  not 
make  fine  birds/  "  Speaking  thus,  he  presented  to 
the  pair  their  two  long  feathers  with  which  he  had 
started  his  collection  and  which  were  the  only 
ones  now  remaining  to  the  masquerading  Crow. 

Then  with  a  harsh  Caw  !  he  flew  away  to  his 
tree.  He  is  not  a  happy  bird,  but  since  that  time 
he  has  never  been  so  mad  as  to  think  that  clothes 
are  the  chief  thing  in  the  world. 


68 


KING   SOLOMON   AND   THE  BIRDS 


ING  SOLOMON  was  wiser  than  all 
men,  and  his  fame  was  in  all  nations 
round  about  Jerusalem.  He  was  so 
wise  that  he  knew  every  spoken  lan- 
guage; yes"  but  more  than  this,  he  could  talk  with 
everything  that  lived,  trees  and  flowers,  beasts  and 
fowls,  creeping  things  and  fishes.  What  a  very 
pleasant  thing  that  was  for  Solomon,  to  be  sure ! 
And  how  glad  one  would  be  nowadays  to  have 
such  knowledge ! 

Solomon  was  especially  fond  of  birds,  and  loved 
to  talk  with  them  because  their  voices  were  so 
sweet  and  they  spoke  such  beautiful  words.  One 
day  the  wise  King  was  chatting  pleasantly  with 
the  birds  who  lived  in  his  wonderful  garden,  and 
these  are  some  of  the  things  which  he  heard  them 
say.  The  Nightingale,  the  sweetest  singer  of  all, 
chanted,  — 

"  Contentment  is  the  greatest  happiness." 
"  It  would  be  better  for  most  people  never  to 
have  been  born,"  crooned  the  melancholy  Turtle- 
Dove. 

69 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

The  happy  little  Swallow  gave  her  opinion,  — 
"  Do  good  and  you  will  be  rewarded  hereafter." 

The  harsh  cry  of  the  Peacock  meant,  "As 
thou  judgest  so  shalt  thou  be  judged." 

The  Hoopoe  said,  "  He  who  has  no  pity  for 
others  will  find  none  for  himself." 

The  cynical  old  Crow  croaked  disagreeably, 
"  The  further  away  from  men  I  am,  the  better  I 
am  pleased." 

Last  of  all  the  Cock  who  sings  in  the  morning 
chanted  his  joyous  song,  — "  Think  of  your  Crea- 
tor, O  foolish  creatures ! " 

When  they  had  finished  talking  King  Solomon 
softly  stroked  the  head  of  the  pretty  little  Dove 
and  bade  her  cheer  up,  for  life  was  not  so  dreadful 
a  thing,  after  all.  And  he  gave  her  permission  to 
build  her  nest  under  the  walls  of  the  great  Tem- 
ple which  he  was  building,  the  most  beautiful, 
golden  house  in  the  whole  world.  Some  years 
afterward  the  Doves  had  so  increased  in  numbers 
that  with  their  extended  wings  they  formed  a  veil 
over  the  numberless  pilgrims  who  came  to  Jeru- 
salem to  visit  the  wonderful  Temple. 

But  of  all  the  winged  singers  who  spoke  that  day 
in  the  garden,  the  wise  King  chose  to  have  ever 
near  him  the  Cock,  because  he  had  spoken  words 
of  piety,  and  the  nimble  Hoopoe,  because  he  was 

70 


KING   SOLOMON  AND   THE  BIRDS 

able  to  plunge  his  clear  gaze  into  the  depths  of 
the  earth  as  if  it  were  made  of  transparent  glass 
and  discover  the  places  where  springs  of  living 
water  were  hidden  under  the  soil.  It  was  very 
convenient  for  Solomon,  when  he  was  traveling, 
to  have  some  one  with  him  who  was  able  to  find 
water  in  whatsoever  place  he  might  be  resting. 

Thus  the  Cock  and  the  Hoopoe  became  Solo- 
mon's closest  companions;  but  of  the  two  the 
Hoopoe  was  his  favorite.  The  Hoopoe  is  an 
Eastern  bird  and  we  do  not  see  him  in  America. 
He  is  about  as  big  as  a  Jay,  colored  a  beautiful 
reddish  gray,  with  feathers  of  purple,  brown,  and 
white,  and  his  black  wings  are  banded  with  white. 
But  the  peculiar  thing  about  a  Hoopoe  is  his 
crown  of  tawny  feathers,  a  tall  crown  for  so  small 
a  bird.  And  this  is  the  story  of  the  Hoopoe's 
crown. 

One  day  when  Solomon  was  journeying  across 
the  desert,  he  was  sorely  distressed  by  the  heat  of 
the  sun,  until  he  came  near  to  fainting.  Just  then 
he  spied  a  flock  of  his  friends  the  Hoopoes  flying 
past,  and  calling  to  them  feebly  he  begged  them 
to  shelter  htm  from  the  burning  rays. 

The  King  of  the  Hoopoes  gathered  together 
his  whole  nation  and  caused  them  to  fly  in  a  thick 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

cloud  over  the  head  of  Solomon  while  he  con- 
tinued his  journey.  In  gratitude  the  wise  King 
offered  to  give  his  feathered  friends  whatever  re- 
ward they  might  ask. 

For  a  whole  day  the  Hoopoes  talked  the  matter 
over  among  themselves,  then  their  King  came  to 
Solomon  and  said  to  him,  — 

"  We  have  considered  your  offer,  O  generous 
King,  and  we  have  decided  that  what  we  most 
desire  is  to  have,  each  of  us,  a  golden  crown  on 
his  head." 

King  Solomon  smiled  and  answered,  "  Crowns 
of  gold  shall  you  have.  But  you  are  foolish  birds, 
my  Hoopoes ;  and  when  the  evil  days  shall  come 
upon  you  and  you  see  the  folly  of  your  desire,  re- 
turn here  to  me  and  I  will  help  you  yet  again." 

So  the  King  of  the  Hoopoes  left  King  Solomon 
with  a  beautiful  golden  crown  upon  his  head. 
And  soon  all  the  Hoopoes  were  wearing  golden 
crowns.  Thereupon  they  grew  very  proud  and 
haughty.  They  went  down  by  the  lakes  and 
pools  and  strutted  there  that  they  might  admire 
themselves  in  the  water  mirrors.  And  the  Queen 
of  the  Hoopoes  became  very  airy,  and  refused  to 
speak  to  her  own  cousin  and  to  the  other  birds 
who  had  once  been  her  friends. 

There  was  a  certain  fowler  who  used  to  set 
72 


KING  SOLOMON  AND   THE  BIRDS 

traps  for  birds.  He  put  a  piece  of  broken  mir- 
ror into  his  trap,  and  a  Hoopoe  spying  it  went  in 
to  admire  herself,  and  was  caught.  The  fowler 
looked  at  the  shining  crown  upon  her  head  and 
said,  "  What  have  we  here !  I  never  saw  a  crown 
like  this  upon  any  bird.  I  must  ask  about  this." 

So  he  took  the  crown  to  Issachar,  the  worker  in 
metal,  and  asked  him  what  it  was.  Issachar  ex- 
amined it  carefully,  and  his  eyes  stuck  out  of  his 
head.  But  he  said  carelessly,  "  It  is  a  crown  of 
brass,  my  friend.  I  will  give  you  a  quarter  of  a 
shekel  for  it;  and  if  you  find  any  more  bring 
them  to  me.  But  be  sure  to  tell  no  other  man  of 
the  matter."  (A  shekel  was  about  sixty-two 
cents.) 

After  this  the  fowler  caught  many  Hoopoes  in 
the  same  way,  and  sold  their  crowns  to  Issachar. 
But  one  day  as  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  metal- 
worker's shop  he  met  a  jeweler,  and  to  him  he 
showed  one  of  the  Hoopoes'  crowns. 

"  What  is  this,  and  where  did  you  find  it  ?  "  ex- 
claimed the  jeweler.  "  It  is  pure  gold.  I  will  give 
you  a  golden  talent  for  every  four  you  bring  me." 
(A  talent  was  worth  three  hundred  shekels.) 

Now  when  the  value  of  the  Hoopoes'  crowns 
was  known,  every  one  turned  fowler  and  began 
to  hunt  the  precious  birds.  In  all  the  land  of 

73 


THE   CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

Israel  was  heard  the  twang  of  bows  and  the  whirl- 
ing of  slings.  Bird  lime  was  made  in  every  town, 
and  the  price  of  traps  rose  in  the  market  so  that 
the  trap-makers  became  rich  men.  Not  a  Hoopoe 
could  show  his  unlucky  head  without  being  slain 
or  taken  captive,  and  the  days  of  the  Hoopoes 
were  numbered.  It  seemed  that  soon  there  would 
be  no  more  Hoopoes  left  to  bewail  their  sad  fate. 

At  last  the  few  who  still  lived  gathered  to- 
gether and  held  a  meeting  to  consider  what  should . 
be  done,  for  their  minds  were  filled  with  sorrow 
and  dismay.  And  they  decided  to  appeal  once 
more  to  King  Solomon,  who  had  granted  their 
foolish  prayer. 

Flying  by  stealth  through  the  loneliest  ways, 
the  unhappy  King  of  the  Hoopoes  came  at  last 
to  the  court  of  the  King,  and  stood  once  more 
before  the  steps  of  his  golden  throne.  With  tears 
and  groans  he  related  the  sad  fortune  which  had 
befallen  his  golden-crowned  race. 

King  Solomon  looked  kindly  upon  the  King 
of  the  Hoopoes  and  said,  "Behold,  did  I  not 
warn  you  of  your  folly  in  desiring  to  have  crowns 
of  gold  ?  Vanity  and  pride  have  been  your  ruin. 
But  now,  that  there  may  be  a  memorial  of  the 
service  which  once  you  did  me,  your  crowns  of 
gold  shall  be  changed  into  crowns  of  feathers,  and 

74 


KING  SOLOMON  AND  THE  BIRDS 

with  them  you  may  walk  unharmed  upon  the 
earth." 

In  this  way  the  remaining  Hoopoes  were  saved. 
For  when  the  fowlers  saw  that  they  no  longer 
wore  crowns  of  gold  upon  their  heads,  they  ceased 
to  hunt  them  as  they  had  been  doing.  And  from 
that  time  forth  the  family  of  the  Hoopoes  have 
flourished  and  increased  in  peace,  even  to  the 
present  day. 

Solomon  was  ever  seeking  to  grow  even  wiser. 
The  better  to  know  the  wonders  of  God's  world 
and  the  ways  of  all  creatures,  he  undertook  many 
journeys,  —  not  as  we  ordinary  poor  mortals  travel, 
in  heavy  wagons  or  clumsy  boats,  by  dusty  roads 
or  stormy  waves.  It  was  in  no  such  troublous 
ways  that  Solomon  the  all-powerful  traversed  space 
and  reached  the  uttermost  corners  of  the  earth. 
Thanks  to  his  great  knowledge,  he  had  discovered 
a  means  of  locomotion  compared  to  which  the 
most  magnificent  railway  coaches  and  the  richest 
palanquins  of  Indian  princes  would  seem  poor  in- 
deed. He  had  caused  his  Genii  to  make  a  silken 
carpet  of  four  leagues  in  extent.  In  the  midst  of 
this  carpet  was  placed  a  magnificent  throne  for  the 
royal  traveler  himself;  and  around  it  were  seats 
of  gold,  of  silver,  of  wood,  for  the  multitude  of 

75 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

persons  of  different  rank  whom  he  took  with  him. 
There  was  also  no  lack  of  the  most  gorgeous  fur- 
niture and  the  necessary  provisions  for  a  king's 
traveling  banquet. 

When  all  was  ready  Solomon  was  wont  to  seat 
himself  upon  his  throne,  and  would  command  the 
winds  to  do  their  duty.  Immediately  they  gently 
lifted  the  carpet  and  bore  it  rapidly  through  the 
air  to  the  appointed  spot.  During  the  journey, 
above  the  aerial  caravan  fluttered  a  cloud  of  birds, 
who  with  their  wings  formed  a  splendid  canopy 
to  shield  their  beloved  lord  from  the  sun's  heat,  as 
the  Hoopoes  had  first  done. 

One  day,  while  on  such  a  journey,  Solomon  was 
shocked  to  feel  a  ray  of  sunlight  piercing  through 
this  plumy  dais  which  overhung  his  head.  Shading 
his  eyes,  the  King  glanced  up  and  perceived  that 
there  was  an  opening  in  the  canopy.  One  bird 
was  missing  from  its  post.  In  great  displeasure 
Solomon  demanded  of  the  Eagle  the  name  of  the 
truant.  Anxiously  the  Eagle  called  the  roll  of  all 
the  birds  in  his  company ;  and  he  was  horrified  to 
find  that  it  was  Solomon's  favorite,  the  Hoopoe, 
who  was  missing.  With  terror  he  announced  the 
bird's  desertion  to  the  most  wise  King. 

"Soar  aloft,"  commanded  Solomon  sternly, 
"  and  find  the  Hoopoe  that  I  may  punish  him. 

76 


KING  SOLOMON  AND  THE  BIRDS 

I  will  pluck  off  his  feathers  that  he  may  feel  the 
scorching  heat  of  the  sun  as  his  carelessness  has 
caused  me  to  do." 

The  Eagle  soared  heavenward,  until  the  earth 
beneath  him  looked  like  a  bowl  turned  upside 
down.  Then  he  poised  on  level  wings  and  looked 
around  in  every  direction  to  discover  the  truant. 
Soon  he  espied  the  Hoopoe  flying  swiftly  from 
the  south.  The  Eagle  swooped  down  and  would 
have  seized  the  culprit  roughly  in  his  strong 
talons,  but  the  Hoopoe  begged  him  for  Solo- 
mon's sake  to  be  gentle. 

"For  Solomon's  sake!"  cried  the  Eagle.  "Do 
you  dare  to  name  the  King  whom  you  have  in- 
jured? He  has  discovered  your  absence  and  in 
his  righteous  anger  will  punish  you  severely." 

"  Lead  me  to  him,"  replied  the  Hoopoe.  "  I 
know  that  he  will  forgive  me  when  he  hears  where 
I  have  been  and  what  I  have  to  tell  him." 

The  Eagle  led  him  to  the  King,  who  with 
a  wrathful  face  was  sitting  on  his  throne.  The 
Hoopoe  trembled  and  drooped  his  feathers  hum- 
bly, but  when  Solomon  would  have  crushed  him 
in  his  mighty  fist  the  bird  cried, — 

"  Remember,  King,  that  one  day  you  also  must 
give  an  account  of  your  sins.  Let  me  not  there- 
fore be  condemned  unheard." 

77 


THE   CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

"  And  if  I  hear  you,  what  excuse  can  you  have 
to  offer  ?  "  answered  Solomon,  frowning.  But  this 
was  his  favorite  bird  and  he  hoped  that  there 
might  be  some  reason  for  sparing  him. 

"  Well,"  said  the  Hoopoe,  "  at  Mecca  I  met  a 
Hoopoe  of  my  acquaintance  who  told  me  so 
wonderful  a  tale  of  the  marvelous  Kingdom  of 
Sheba  in  Arabia  that  I  could  not  resist  the  temp-, 
tation  to  visit  that  country  of  gold  and  precious 
stones.  And  there,  indeed,  I  saw  the  most  prodi- 
gious treasures;  but  best  of  all,  O  King,  more 
glorious  than  gold,  more  precious  than  rare  jewels, 
I  saw  Queen  Balkis,  the  most  beautiful  of  queens." 

"  Tell  me  of  this  Queen,"  said  Solomon,  loosen- 
ing his  rough  grasp  upon  the  Hoopoe.  So  it  was, 
say  the  Mussulmans,  that  a  bird  told  Solomon  of 
the  great  Queen  whose  journey  to  Jerusalem  is 
described  in  the  Bible. 

The  Hoopoe  told  of  her  power  and  glory,  her 
riches,  her  wisdom,  and  her  beauty,  until  Solomon 
sighed  a  great  sigh  and  said,  "It  seems  too  good 
to  be  true  !  But  we  shall  see." 

So  the  King  wrote  a  letter  to  Balkis,  bidding 
her  follow  the  guidance  of  fate  and  come  to  the 
court  of  the  wise  King.  This  note  he  sealed  with 
musk,  stamped  with  his  great  signet,  and  gave  to 
the  Hoopoe,  saying,  — 


KING  SOLOMON  AND  THE  BIRDS 

"  If  now  you  have  spoken  truth,  take  this  letter 
to  Queen  Balkis ;  then  come  away." 

The  Hoopoe  did  as  he  was  bid,  darting  off  to- 
wards the  south  like  an  arrow.  And  the  next  day 
he  came  to  the  palace  of  the  Queen  of  Sheba, 
where  she  sat  in  all  her  splendor  among  her  coun- 
selors. He  hopped  into  the  hall  and  dropped  the 
letter  into  her  lap,  then  flew  away. 

Queen  Balkis  stared  and  stared  at  the  great 
King's  seal  upon  the  mysterious  letter,  and  when 
she  had  read  the  brief  invitation  she  stared  and 
stared  again.  But  she  had  heard  the  fame  of  Solo- 
mon and  was  eager  to  ask  him  some  of  her  clever 
questions  to  prove  his  wisdom.  So  she  decided  to 
accept  his  invitation  and  come  to  Jerusalem. 

She  came  with  a  great  train  of  attendants,  with 
camels  that  bore  spices  and  treasures  of  gold  and 
precious  stones,  gifts  for  the  most  wise  King.  And 
she  asked  him  more  questions  than  any  woman 
had  ever  asked  him  before,  though  he  knew  a  great 
many  ladies,  and  they  were  all  inquisitive. 

But  Solomon  was  so  wise  that  he  answered  all 
her  questions  without  any  trouble. 

And  she  said  to  him,  "  It  was  a  true  report  that 
I  heard  of  you  in  my  own  land,  of  your  wisdom 
and  of  your  glory.  Only  that  which  now  I  know 
and  see  is  greater  than  what  I  heard.  Happy  are 

79 


THE   CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

thy  men  and  happy  are  thy  servants  who  stand 
continually  before  thee  and  hear  thy  wisdom." 

And  she  gave  the  King  a  hundred  and  twenty 
talents  of  gold,  which  was  a  very  rich  treasure,  be- 
sides great  store  of  spices,  and  the  most  precious 
gifts ;  no  one  had  ever  seen  such  gifts  as  the  Queen 
of  Sheba  gave  to  Solomon. 

But  he  in  turn  was  even  more  generous.  For  he 
gave  to  the  fair  Balkis  all  that  she  desired  and 
everything  she  asked,  because  he  admired  so  much 
this  splendid  Queen  of  whom  the  Hoopoe  had  first 
told  him. 

And  so,  the  Bible  says,  the  Queen  of  Sheba 
turned  and  went  to  her  own  country,  she  and  her 
servants.  But  the  Mussulmans'  tales  say  that  in 
later  days  she  married  Solomon  and  they  lived 
happily  ever  after.  And  it  was  all  the  work  of  that 
little  Hoopoe  with  a  yellow  crown,  whom  after 
that  we  may  be  sure  Solomon  loved  better  than 
ever. 


So 


THE   PIOUS  ROBIN 


Art  thou  the  bird  whom  man  loves  best, 
The  pious  bird  with  the  scarlet  breast, 
Our  little  English  Robin  ?  " 

WORDSWORTH. 

iHE  English  Robin  is  not  precisely  like 
our  little  American  friend  whom  we 
call  by  that  name,  although,  as  the 
lines  of  poetry  quoted  above  will 
show,  in  two  ways  he  is  the  same  as  ours :  he  has 
a  red  breast,  and  he  is  the  bird  whom  every  one 
loves.  Of  all  the  little  brothers  of  the  air,  in  every 
land  and  clime,  the  pretty,  jolly,  neighborly  Robin 
Redbreast  is  the  favorite. 

There  are  many  stories  about  him :  some  which 
tell  how  he  came  by  his  scarlet  breast,  others  which 
explain  why  he  has  always  been  best  beloved  of 
the  birds.  I  have  already  told  how  he  helped  the 
Wren  to  bring  fire  to  men.  Every  one  knows  how 
tenderly  he  covered  with  leaves  the  poor  Babes  in 
the  Wood,  when  they  had  been  deserted  even  by 
their  nearest  of  kin.  Some  have  heard  about  Saint 
Kentigern,  and  how  he  restored  to  life  the  pious 

81 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

Robin  of  his  master  Servan,  —  the  dear  little  bird 
who  used  to  sing  psalms  every  morning  in  the 
Saint's  company.  Some  also  know  about  the  Robin 
who  brought  the  wheat-ear  in  his  bill  to  the  poor 
brothers  in  Brittany  who  had  no  grain  to  plant  for 
their  future  harvest.  All  these  tales  show  the 
Robin's  generous  heart,  cheerful  nature,  and  pious 
devotion,  which  make  him  beloved  by  men.  But 
perhaps  you  do  not  know  why  he  is  called  God's 
own  bird. 

"  The  Robin  and  the  Wren 
Are  God's  cock  and  hen," 

sing  the  little  English  children,  and  they  think  it 
is  very  wicked  to  injure  one  of  the  holy  birds  or 
make  her  unhappy  by  robbing  her  nest  of  its 
pretty  eggs. 

This  is  why  the  Robin  is  called  the  good  bird, 
God's  bird.  The  oldest  stories  say  that  the  little 
Christ-child  used  to  feed  most  tenderly  the  Robins 
who  hopped  about  the  door  of  His  mother's  house, 
for  they  were  dearest  of  all  to  His  baby  heart.  Per- 
haps He  thus  early  learned  to  love  them  because 
His  mother  had  told  Him  of  the  service  which 
the  dear  little  birds  had  once  performed  for  her. 

For  it  is  said  that  once  upon  a  time,  when 
Mary  was  a  little  girl,  as  she  was  going  along  the 
gusty  road  a  bit  of  straw  blew  into  her  eye  and 

82 


THE  PIOUS  ROBIN 

pained  her  terribly.  She  sat  down  upon  a  stone 
and  began  to  cry.  Now  a  Robin  was  sitting  on 
a  branch  close  by,  singing  with  all  the  power  of 
his  little  throat  when  the  maiden  passed,  for  she 
was  very  sweet  to  see  and  the  Robin  loved  her 
looks.  But  when  he  saw  the  blessed  Mary  begin 
to  cry  and  rub  her  eye  with  her  chubby  hand,  he 
stopped  his  gay  song  and  became  very  sad,  won- 
dering what  he  could  do  to  help  her. 

What  he  did  was  to  fly  away  and  tell  his  friend 
the  Swallow  all  about  it,  asking  her  aid.  After 
that  he  fluttered  to  a  little  fountain  which  bubbled 
up  close  by  and  brought  thence  in  his  bill  a  drop 
of  water.  Then,  perching  on  Mary's  forehead,  he 
gently  dropped  this  into  the  suffering  eye.  At  the 
same  time  the  Swallow  softly  brushed  her  long 
tail-feathers  under  the  maiden's  eyelid,  and  the 
hateful  straw  was  wiped  away.  Thus  the  little 
Mary  was  relieved,  and  when  once  more  she  could 
look  up  happily  with  her  pretty  eyes  she  smiled 
upon  the  two  kind  birds  and  blessed  them  for 
their  aid. 

Of  course,  if  the  little  Christ  heard  His  mother 
tell  this  pretty  story  He  would  have  been  sure  to 
love  the  Robin,  just  as  she  did.  And  so  these  lit- 
tle birds  became  His  boyhood  friends. 

Those  were  happy  times.   But  in  the  after  years, 

83 


THE   CURIOUS   BOOK   OF   BIRDS 

in  the  dreadful  day  when  the  Saviour  was  so 
cruelly  done  to  death  by  His  enemies,  the  little 
Robin  once  more  proved  his  generous  and  pious 
heart,  so  the  legends  say. 

The  Saviour  hung  upon  the  cross,  suffering  and 
sad,  while  the  world  was  veiled  with  darkness  and 
all  good  creatures  mourned.  Two  birds  perched 
upon  the  cross  beside  His  weary,  drooping  head. 
One  was  the  faithful  Robin,  who  was  then  a  plain 
and  dark-colored  bird  with  the  scorched  feathers  of 
a  fire-bringer  upon  his  breast.  The  other  was  the 
Magpie,  who  at  that  time  was  among  the  most 
gorgeous  and  beautiful  of  all  the  birds.  She  had  a 
tuft  of  bright  feathers  on  her  head,  and  her  plum- 
age outshone  even  that  of  the  Peacock,  who  has 
the  hundred  gleaming  eyes  of  Argus  set  in  his 
fan-like  tail.  But  the  Magpie,  in  spite  of  her 
beauty,  was  at  heart  a  wicked  bird.  Think  of  it ! 
She  mocked  the  dying  Saviour  in  His  agony 
and  seemed  to  rejoice  in  His  suffering! 

But  the  Robin  fluttered  about  the  holy  figure, 
timidly  uttering  chirps  of  sorrow  and  longing  to 
help  the  Master  who  had  fed  him  tenderly  for  so 
many  years.  With  his  soft  wings  he  wiped  away 
the  tears  which  flowed  from  the  Lord's  eyes,  while 
with  his  beak  he  tugged  at  the  cruel  thorns  which 
pierced  His  brow,  trying  to  relieve  Him. 

84 


THE  PIOUS  ROBIN 

Suddenly  a  drop  of  blood  fell  from  Christ's 
forehead  upon  the  Robin's  breast  and  tinged  with 
bright  crimson  the  rusty  reddish  feathers. 

"  Blessed  be  thou,"  said  the  Lord,  "  thou  sharer 
of  my  suffering.  Wherever  thou  goest  happiness 
and  joy  shall  follow  thee.  Blue  as  the  heaven  shall 
be  thy  eggs,  and  from  henceforth  thou  shalt  be 
the  Bird  of  God,  the  bearer  of  good  tidings.  But 
thou,"  He  added,  addressing  the  Magpie  sorrow- 
fully, "thou  art  accursed.  No  longer  shall  the 
brilliant  tuft  and  bright  feathers  of  which  thou  art 
so  proud  and  so  unworthy  adorn  thee.  Thy  color 
shall  be  the  streaked  black  and  white  of  shadows, 
thy  life  a  hard  one.  And  thy  nest,  however  well 
builded,  shall  be  open  to  the  storm." 

These  were  almost  the  last  words  which  the  Sa- 
viour spoke.  After  that,  when  the  Lord  was  laid  in 
the  sepulchre,  the  faithful  Robin  still  watched  be- 
side Him  for  those  three  dread  days  until  He  rose 
on  Easter  morning,  when  the  little  bird  rejoiced 
with  all  nature  at  the  wondrous  happening.  And 
again  on  Ascension  Day  he  paid  his  last  tribute  to 
the  risen  Master,  joining  his  little  song  with  the 
chorus  of  the  angels  themselves  in  the  gladdest 
Hosanna  which  the  universe  had  ever  heard. 

This  explains  how  the  Magpie  became  a  rest- 
less, noisy,  black-and-white  bird  as  we  know  her 

85 


THE   CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

to  this  day,  having  lost  all  her  brilliant  beauty 
through  the  wickedness  of  her  heart.  But  the 
pious  Robin  still  wears  upon  his  breast  the  beau- 
tiful feathers  stained  red  with  his  Master's  blood. 
And  all  that  the  Saviour  foretold  of  him  has  come 
true.  He  is  the  blessed  bird  whom  children  every- 
where love  and  of  whom  they  still  repeat  these 
old  verses :  — 

"  The  Robin  and  the  Redbreast, 

The  Robin  and  the  Wren, 
If  ye  take  out  of  the  nest 

Ye  '11  never  thrive  again. 
The  Robin  and  the  Redbreast, 

The  Martin  and  the  Swallow, 
If  ye  touch  one  of  their  eggs 

Bad  luck  is  sure  to  follow." 


86 


THE  ROBIN   WHO   WAS   AN   INDIAN 


name  of  Robin  makes  us  think  at 
once  of  the  j  oiliest  and  most  sociable 
of  all  our  little  brother  birds.   In  every 
land  the  name  is  a  favorite,  and  wher- 
ever he  goes  he  brings  happiness  and  kind  feeling. 
The  American  Robin  is  not  the  same  bird  as 
his  English  cousin,  though  both  have  red  breasts. 
It  was  in   a   different  manner  that  our  little 
American  friend  came  to  have  the  ruddy  waist- 
coat which  we  know  so  well. 

There  was  a  time,  so  the  Indians  say,  a  very 
early  time,  long,  long  before  Columbus  discovered 
America,  —  even  before  histories  began  to  be  writ- 
ten, —  when  there  were  no  Robins. 

In  those  days  in  the  land  of  the  Ojibways,  which 
is  far  in  the  north  of  the  cold  country,  there  lived 
an  old  Indian  chief  who  had  one  son,  named  la- 
dilla.  Now  among  the  Ojibways,  when  a  boy  was 
almost  big  enough  to  become  a  warrior,  before  he 
could  go  out  with  the  other  braves  to  the  hunt 
or  to  war,  there  was  a  great  trial  which  he  must 
undergo.  Other  lands  and  peoples  have  known 

87 


THE   CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

similar  customs.  You  remember  how,  in  early 
Christian  times,  long,  long  ago,  Galahad  and  other 
boys  had  to  fast  and  watch  by  their  armor  during 
the  long  night  hours  before  they  could  become 
knights,  to  wear  spurs  and  shield  and  sword  ?  In 
just  the  same  way  a  brown  Ojibway  lad  had  to 
make  a  long  fast  in  order  to  win  the  love  of  his 
Guardian  Spirit,  who  would  after  that  watch  over 
him  to  make  him  brave  and  strong.  It  was  a  very 
important  event  in  a  boy's  life,  like  graduation 
from  school  or  college  nowadays.  For  this  meant 
the  graduation  from  boyhood  into  manhood,  the 
winning  of  a  warrior's  diploma. 

The  father  of  ladilla  was  a  brave  warrior,  a  fa- 
mous chief.  But  he  wished  his  son  to  become 
even  better,  wiser,  greater  than  he  had  been.  He 
resolved  that  the  boy  should  fast  longer  and  harder 
than  ever  a  lad  had  fasted  before.  For  he  believed 
that  this  was  the  way  to  make  him  the  noblest  of 
his  race.  ladilla  was  a  fine  handsome  lad,  but  he 
was  the  youngest  one  who  had  ever  made  the 
trial,  and  there  were  many  bigger  boys  than  he 
who  were  not  yet  warriors.  The  other  chiefs  said 
that  he  was  not  yet  old  and  strong  enough. 

But  ladilla's  father  declared  that  it  was  time, 
and  bade  his  son  gather  courage  and  pride  for 
the  ordeal.  "  For,"  he  said,  "  it  will  be  no  easy 

88 


THE  ROBIN  WHO  WAS  AN    INDIAN 

matter,  my  son,  to  become  the  greatest  chief  of 
the  Ojibways." 

"  My  father,"  replied  ladilla,  humbly,  "  I  will 
do  as  you  wish.  I  will  do  what  I  can.  But  my 
strength  is  not  the  strength  of  the  bigger  boys ; 
and  I  think  it  is  yet  early  to  talk  of  my  becoming 
greatest  of  the  Ojibways.  Yet  make  trial  of  me,  if 
you  wish." 

The  father  of  ladilla  had  made  a  little  tent  of 
skins  where  the  boy  was  to  live  during  his  fasting 
time ;  where  he  was  to  lie  without  food  or  drink 
for  twelve  long  days,  waiting  for  a  message  from 
the  Guardian  Spirit  whose  love  was  to  be  the  re- 
ward of  such  a  trial. 

When  the  time  came,  the  old  man  led  ladilla 
to  the  lodge  and  bade  him  lie  down  on  the  bed  of 
skins  which  had  been  prepared  for  him.  And 
ladilla  did  as  he  was  bid,  for  he  was  a  brave  and 
obedient  lad. 

The  days  crept  by,  the  long,  long  days  of  wait- 
ing, while  ladilla  lay  in  the  lodge  bearing  hunger 
and  thirst  such  as  no  Ojibway  lad  had  ever  before 
known.  All  day  and  all  night  he  lay  still  and  spoke 
never  a  word.  But  a  dreadful  fear  was  in  his  heart 
lest  he  should  not  be  able  to  endure  the  fast  for  the 
twelve  days  which  his  father  had  set. 

Every  morning  his  father  came  to  the  lodge  to 
89 


THE  CURIOUS    BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

praise  and  to  encourage  him,  and  to  rejoice  in  one 
more  day  checked  from  the  long  time  of  fasting. 
So  eight  days  passed,  and  the  old  man  was  proud 
and  happy.  Already  his  dear  son  had  done  more 
than  any  Ojibway  lad,  and  the  whole  tribe  was 
praising  ladilla,  saying  what  a  great  chief  he  would 
be  in  the  days  to  come. 

But  on  the  ninth  morning,  when  the  father 
peeped  into  the  lodge  to  see  how  bravely  his  son 
was  faring,  the  boy  turned  his  head  toward  the 
door  and  spoke  for  the  first  time  in  all  those  long 
days.  He  was  very  thin  and  pale,  and  his  voice 
sounded  weak. 

"  My  father,"  he  said,  "  I  have  slept,  and  my 
dreams  were  sad.  I  have  slept,  and  my  dreams 
were  of  failure  and  weakness.  The  time  does  not 
please  my  Guardian  Spirit.  It  is  not  now  that  I 
can  become  a  warrior.  I  am  not  yet  strong  and 
old  enough.  O  my  father,  I  cannot  bear  the  fast 
longer  !  I  am  so  hungry,  so  thirsty,  so  faint !  Let 
me  break  my  fast,  and  try  again  in  another  year." 

But  the  father  sternly  refused,  for  he  was  ambi- 
tious. "  Nay,  lad,"  he  cried,  frowningly.  "  Would 
you  fail  me  now  *?  Think  of  the  glory,  think  of 
being  the  greatest  of  Ojibways.  It  is  but  a  few 
short  days  now.  Courage,  ladilla,  be  a  man  in 
strength  and  patience." 

90 


THE  ROBIN   WHO   WAS   AN    INDIAN 

ladilla  said  no  more.  He  wrapped  himself 
closer  in  his  blanket  and  drew  his  belt  tighter  about 
his  slender  waist,  trying  to  stifle  the  hunger  gnaw- 
ing there.  So  he  lay  silently  until  the  eleventh  day. 
That  morning  his  father  came  to  the  lodge,  beam- 
ing proudly. 

"  Bravo,  my  ladilla ! "  he  cried.  "  Only  one  day 
more,  and  you  will  be  released  from  your  fast." 
But  ladilla  clasped  his  hands  beseechingly. 

"  My  father,"  gasped  the  poor  boy.  "  I  cannot 
bear  it  another  day.  I  am  not  fit  to  be  a  great 
chief.  I  have  failed.  Give  me  food,  or  I  die ! " 

But  again  the  father  refused.  "  It  is  but  a  day 
now,"  he  said,  "  but  a  few  short  hours.  Bear  a  lit- 
tle longer,  ladilla.  To-morrow  I  myself  will  bring 
you  the  finest  breakfast  that  ever  a  lad  ate.  Cour- 
age, boy,  for  the  few  hours  that  remain." 

ladilla  was  too  weak  to  answer.  He  lay  motion- 
less, with  only  a  gentle  heaving  of  his  breast  to 
show  that  he  still  lived.  His  father  left  him  for  the 
last  time,  and  went  to  prepare  the  morrow's  goodly 
breakfast,  while  the  tribe  planned  a  fine  festival  in 
honor  of  the  young  hero. 

Early  on  the  morrow  came  ladilla's  father  to  the 
tent,  proudly  bearing  the  breakfast  for  his  brave 
boy,  and  smiling  to  think  how  gladly  he  would 
be  received.  But  he  stopped  outside  the  tent  door 

9* 


THE   CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

surprised  to  hear  some  one  talking  within.  Stoop- 
ing to  a  little  hole  in  the  skin  of  the  tent  he  peeped 
in  to  find  who  the  speaker  might  be.  Imagine  his 
surprise  to  find  ladilla  standing  upright  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  tent  painting  his  breast  a  brilliant  red, 
as  Indians  do  in  war  time.  And  as  he  daubed  on 
the  colors  he  talked  to  himself.  He  spoke  softly, 
yet  not  with  the  weak  voice  of  a  starving  lad ;  and 
his  face  was  very  beautiful  to  see,  despite  its  pale 
thinness. 

"  My  father  has  ended  my  Indian  life,"  he  said. 
"  My  father,  too  ambitious,  has  put  upon  me  more 
than  my  strength  could  bear.  He  would  not  lis- 
ten to  my  prayer  of  weakness.  But  I  knew,  I 
knew!  And  my  kind  Guardian  Spirit  knew 
also  that  it  was  more  than  I  could  bear.  He 
has  shown  pity,  seeing  that  I  was  obedient  to  my 
father  and  did  my  best  to  please  him.  Now  I 
am  to  be  no  longer  an  Indian  boy.  I  must  take 
the  shape  which  the  Spirit  has  given  me,  and  go 
away." 

At  these  strange  words  the  father  broke  into  the 
tent,  exclaiming  in  terror,  — 

"  My  son,  my  dear  son !   Do  not  leave  me  ! " 

But,  even  as  he  spoke,  ladilla  changed  into  a 
beautiful  Robin  Redbreast  with  soft  feathers  and 
strong,  firm  wings.  And,  fluttering  up  to  the  ridge- 

92 


THE  ROBIN  WHO   WAS   AN    INDIAN 

pole  of  the  tent,  he  looked  down  with  pity  and 
tenderness  upon  the  heart-broken  chief. 

"  Do  not  grieve,  father,"  he  sang.  "  I  shall  be 
so  much  happier  as  a  bird,  free  from  human  pain 
and  sorrow.  I  will  cheer  you  with  my  merry  songs. 
Otu  I  have  been  hungry ;  but  now  I  shall  get  my 
food  so  easily,  so  pleasantly  on  mountains  and  in 
the  fields.  Oh,  once  I  was  thirsty;  but  now  the 
dew  is  mine  and  the  little  springs.  Once  I  traced 
my  way  painfully  by  forest  paths  through  bog  and 
brake  and  tangled  brier.  But  now  my  pathways 
are  in  the  bright,  clear  air,  where  never  thorn  can 
tear  nor  beast  can  follow.  Farewell,  dear  father! 
I  am  so  happy  !", 

He  stretched  his  brown  wings  as  easily  as  if  he 
had  worn  them  all  his  life,  and,  singing  a  sweet 
song,  fluttered  away  to  the  neighboring  woods, 
where  he  built  his  nest,  and  lived  happily  ever 
after. 

And  since  that  day  the  glad  little  Robins  have 
lived  as  that  first  one  promised,  close  by  the  homes 
of  men,  and  have  done  all  they  could  to  cheer  us 
and  make  us  happy.  For  they  remember  how, 
once  upon  a  time,  their  ancestor  was  a  human 
boy. 


93 


THE   INQUISITIVE  WOMAN 

HERE  was  once  a  woman  who  was 
so  very  inquisitive  that  she  wished 
to  know  everything.  She  was  never 
happy  unless  she  was  poking  her 
nose  into  some  mystery,  and  the  less  a  matter 
concerned  her  the  more  curious  she  was  about 
it. 

One  day  the  Lord  gathered  together  all  the 
insects  in  the  world,  all  the  beetles,  bugs,  bees, 
mosquitoes,  ants,  locusts,  grasshoppers,  and  other 
creatures  who  fly  or  hop  or  crawl,  and  shut  them 
up  in  a  huge  sack  well  tied  at  the  end.  What  a 
queer,  squirming,  muffled-buzzing  bundle  it  made, 
to  be  sure ! 

Then  the  Lord  called  the  woman  to  him  and 
said,  "Woman,  I  would  have  you  take  this  sack 
and  throw  it  into  the  sea.  But  be  sure  and  do  not 
untie  the  end  of  it  to  look  inside ;  for  the  sack 
must  on  no  account  be  opened,  even  for  a  single 
minute." 

The  woman  took  the  sack,  wondering  very 
much  at  the  queer  size  and  shape  and  feeling  of 

94 


THE  INQUISITIVE   WOMAN 

it,  and  especially  at  the  strange  noises  which  came 
from  the  inside. 

"  What  can  be  in  the  sack  ?  "  she  said  to  her- 
self. "  Oh,  I  wish  I  knew !  Oh,  how  I  wish  I 
knew !  Oh,  how  very,  very  much  I  wish  I  knew ! " 
Her  curiosity  increased  every  minute  as  she  went 
step  by  step  towards  the  sea,  until  when  she  had 
gone  scarcely  a  hundred  paces  she  stopped  short 
and  said,  "  I  must  know  what  is  inside  this  sack 
before  I  go  any  farther.  I  will  take  just  one  tiny 
little  peep,  and  He  will  never  know  it." 

Very  carefully  she  untied  the  neck  of  the  sack. 
Buzz!  Whirr!  Hum!  Zim!  She  had  opened 
it  but  a  tiny  little  crack  when  out  crawled  and 
hopped  and  flew  the  millions  and  swarms  and 
colonies  of  all  kinds  of  insects,  and  away  they 
scattered  in  every  direction.  Such  a  noise  as  filled 
the  air  about  the  astonished  woman's  head !  Such 
a  wriggling  and  squirming  and  hopping  in  the 
grass  about  her  feet ! 

"  Oh,  now  I  know  what  was  in  the  sack ! "  she 
cried.  "But  I  wish  I  had  not  looked.  Oh,  what- 
ever shall  I  do?  He  told  me  to  throw  the  bag 
into  the  ocean  without  looking  in.  But  now  the 
horrid  creatures  have  escaped  everywhere  and  He 
will  know  what  I  have  done.  Oh,  what  will  He 
do  to  punish  me?" 

95 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

She  began  to  run  hither  and  yon  like  a  crazy 
woman,  picking  up  the  bugs  and  jumping  for  the 
fluttering  insects,  trying  to  put  them  back  into 
the  bag.  They  stung  her  and  bit  her  and  got 
into  her  eyes  until  she  screamed  with  pain.  As 
fast  as  she  caught  one  another  escaped,  and  she 
soon  saw  that  it  was  a  hopeless  task.  She  could 
never  catch  the  millions  of  creatures  who  had  scat- 
tered away  to  their  homes  in  every  corner  of  the 
world. 

Then  the  Lord  came  to  her  and  said  very 
sternly,  "  O  Woman,  you  have  disobeyed  me,  just 
as  did  the  very  first  woman  of  all.  And  you  must 
be  punished  both  for  your  disobedience  and  for 
your  inquisitiveness  which  has  led  you  into  the 
worse  sin.  Not  until  you  have  gathered  up  every 
one  of  these  insects  which  you  have  permitted  to 
escape  back  into  the  world  shall  you  be  happy. 
But  I  will  give  you  wings  to  help  you  in  the  task. 
You  shall  become  a  Woodpecker,  and  it  shall  be 
your  task  to  hunt,  hunt  for  the  insects  which  hide 
away  so  slyly  at  your  approach.  Not  till  the  last 
one  of  these  is  gobbled  up  from  the  earth  shall 
you  return  to  your  own  shape  and  be  a  woman 
once  more." 

Then  the  Lord  changed  the  inquisitive  woman 
into  a  restless  Woodpecker,  and  with  a  "  tut-tut ! " 

96 


THE  INQUISITIVE   WOMAN 

she  darted  away  in  pursuit  of  the  insects  which 
had  brought  her  into  such  trouble. 

And  that  is  why  to  this  day  one  sees  the  Wood- 
pecker pecking  so  frantically  on  the  tree  trunks, 
anxious  lest  a  single  insect  should  escape.  For 
she  is  very  tired  of  being  a  bird,  and  is  longing 
to  become  a  woman  once  more.  But  it  will  be  a 
very  long  time,  I  fear,  before  she  gathers  up  all 
the  wriggling,  squirming,  hopping,  buzzing,  sting- 
ing, biting  things  that  make  life  in  the  country  so 
varied,  exciting,  and  musical. 


97 


WHY   THE  NIGHTINGALE  WAKES 

[HEN  the  other  birds  are  sound  asleep 
in  their  nests,  with  their  little  heads 
tucked  comfortably  under  their  feath- 
ers, Sister  Nightingale,  they  say,  may 
not  rest,  but  still  sounds  the  notes  of  her  beautiful 
song  in  grove  and  thicket. 

Why  does  she  sing  thus,  all  night  long  as  well 
as  through  the  day  ?  It  is  because  she  dares  not 
go  to  sleep  on  account  of  the  Blindworm,  who  is 
waiting  to  catch  her  with  her  eyes  closed. 

Once  upon  a  time,  when  the  world  was  very 
new,  the  Blindworm  was  not  quite  blind,  but  had 
one  good  eye.  Moreover,  in  those  days  the  Night- 
ingale also  had  but  one  eye.  As  for  the  Blind- 
worm,  it  mattered  very  little ;  for  he  was  a  homely 
creature,  content  to  crawl  about  in  the  dark  under- 
ground, or  under  wood  and  leaves,  where  nobody 
saw  him  and  nobody  cared.  But  the  Nightingale's 
case  was  really  quite  too  pitiful !  Fancy  the  sweet- 
est singer  among  all  the  birds,  the  favorite  chorister, 
going  about  with  but  one  eye,  while  every  one  else, 

98 


WHY  THE  NIGHTINGALE  WAKES 

even  the  tiniest  little  Humming  Bird  of  all,  had 
two. 

The  Nightingale  felt  very  sore  about  this  matter, 
and  tried  to  conceal  her  misfortune  from  the  other 
birds.  She  managed  to  cock  her  head  the  other 
way  whenever  she  met  a  friend,  and  she  always 
flew  past  any  stranger  so  fast  that  he  never  saw  the 
empty  socket  where  her  other  pretty  eye  should 
be. 

But  one  day  there  was  great  excitement  among 
the  birds.  Miss  Jenny  Wren  was  going  to  be 
married  to  young  Cock  Robin.  There  was  to  be 
a  grand  wedding;  every  one  was  invited,  and  of 
course  the  Nightingale  was  needed  to  lead  the 
bridal  chorus  of  feathered  songsters.  But  the  poor 
Nightingale  was  set  in  a  flutter  of  anxiety  by  the 
news. 

"  Oh,  dear  me  ! "  she  said,  "  I  do  want  to  go  to 
Jenny's  wedding,  oh,  of  course  I  do !  But  how  can 
I  go  ?  If  I  do,  the  other  birds  will  discover  that  I 
have  but  one  eye,  and  then  how  the  disagreeable 
creatures  will  laugh  at  me.  Oh  dear,  oh  dear! 
What  shall  I  do  ?  I  cannot  go,  no,  I  really  can- 
not. But  what  excuse  can  I  give  ?  Oh,  it  is  not 
right  that  the  sweetest  singer  in  all  Birdland  should 
be  laughed  at,  merely  because  she  has  the  misfor- 
tune to  lack  one  poor  little  eye ! " 

99 


THE   CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

The  Nightingale  sat  on  the  branch,  singing  so 
mournfully  that  all  the  creatures  on  the  ground 
below  went  sorrowfully  about  their  daily  business. 
Just  then  the  Nightingale  spied  a  silvery  gleam 
among  the  dead  leaves.  It  was  the  Blindworm,  a 
spotted  gray  streak,  writhing  noiselessly  along  to- 
wards the  decayed  wood  of  a  fallen  tree,  in  which 
he  loved  to  burrow.  And  the  Blindworm  was  not 
sad  like  the  others,  neither  seemed  he  to  care  in 
the  least  about  the  Nightingale's  music.  Worms 
think  little  of  sweet  sounds.  He  cocked  his  one 
eye  up  towards  the  Nightingale  and  winked  ma- 
liciously. He  alone  of  all  creatures  knew  the 
Nightingale's  secret. 

"  Good-day,  Sister  Nightingale,"  he  said.  "  How 
is  your  eye  this  morning?  We  have  a  goodly 
pair  between  us ;  though  I  think  that  mine  is 
rather  the  better  of  the  two." 

Then  he  disappeared  into  a  tiny  opening.  For 
though  the  Blindworm  is  nearly  a  foot  long  he  is 
so  smooth  and  slippery  that  he  can  enter  a  hole 
which  is  almost  smaller  than  himself. 

The  Nightingale  was  very  indignant  at  being 
addressed  in  this  familiar  way  by  a  miserable, 
crawling  creature  who  not  only  could  not  fly,  but 
who  could  not  sing  a  note,  and  did  not  know  do 
from  fa.  Besides,  it  made  her  angry  to  think  that 

100 


WHY  THE  NIGHTINGALE  WAKES 

he  knew  her  secret  and  talked  aloud  about  it  so 
that  any  one  might  hear. 

"  The  idea  ! "  she  cried.  "  It  is  bad  enough  that 
I  cannot  go  to  the  wedding  of  my  dear  friend 
Jenny.  But  to  be  jeered  at  by  this  creature,  it  is 
more  than  I  can  bear.  Ha !  I  have  an  idea.  I 
will  punish  him  and  help  myself  at  the  same  time. 
I  will  steal  his  one  eye  and  wear  it  to  Jenny 
Wren's  wedding ;  then  no  one  will  ever  discover 
my  misfortune." 

Now  this  was  an  excellent  scheme,  but  it  was  not 
so  easy  to  carry  it  out  as  the  Nightingale  had 
thought.  For  the  Blindworm  was  very  timid  and 
kept  himself  carefully  hidden  in  his  burrow  of 
soft  soil,  as  if  he  half  suspected  the  Nightingale's 
plans.  Day  after  day  the  Nightingale  kept  eager 
watch  upon  his  movements,  and  at  last,  on  the 
very  eve  of  the  wedding,  when  she  had  almost 
given  up  hope,  she  spied  the  Blindworm  sound 
asleep  on  the  moss  under  a  tall  tree. 

"  Ha !  "  said  the  Nightingale  to  herself  very 
softly.  "  Now  is  my  chance  ! "  She  fluttered  into 
the  top  of  the  oak  tree,  and  from  there  hopped 
down  from  branch  to  branch,  from  twig  to  twig, 
until  she  was  directly  over  the  sleeper's  ugly  head, 
over  the  one  closed  eye.  Then  whirr!  Down 
she  pounced  upon  the  Blindworm.  And  before 

101 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

the  creature  had  a  chance  to  know  what  was  hap- 
pening, the  Nightingale  had  stolen  his  eye,  and 
had  popped  it  into  place  in  the  empty  socket  on 
the  other  side  of  her  beak. 

"  Ha,  ha ! "  she  sang  merrily.  "  Now  I  have  two 
bright  eyes,  as  good  as  any  one's.  Now  I  can  go 
to  Jenny  Wren's  wedding  as  gayly  as  I  please, 
and  no  one  shall  see  more  of  the  ceremony  than  I. 
I  shall  be  able  to  tell  just  exactly  how  the  bride 
is  dressed,  how  every  little  feather  is  arranged, 
and  how  she  looks  after  Parson  Crow  has  pro- 
nounced the  blessing.  Oh,  how  happy  I  am ! " 

But  the  poor  Blindworm,  blind  indeed  from 
that  day  forth,  began  to  cry  and  lament,  begging 
the  Nightingale  to  give  him  back  his  eye. 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Nightingale,  "  did  you  not 
laugh  at  me  when  you  saw  me  sadly  sitting  on  the 
tree,  mourning  because  I  could  not  go  to  the 
wedding?  Now  I  have  stolen  your  eye,  and  I 
can  see  famously.  But  you  will  never  again  see 
me  sitting  sadly  on  the  tree." 

Then  the  Blindworm  grew  very  angry.  "  I  will 
get  the  eye  back  ! "  he  cried.  "  I  will  steal  it  from 
you,  as  you  stole  it  from  me,  some  time  when  you 
are  asleep.  I  will  climb  up  into  your  nest  some 
night,  and  I  will  take  both  your  eyes  of  which 


102 


WHY  THE  NIGHTINGALE  WAKES 

you  are  so  proud.  Then  you  will  be  blind,  wholly 
blind  as  I  am  now." 

At  these  threatening  words  the  Nightingale 
ceased  to  sing  and  became  silent  with  fear.  For 
she  knew  that  the  Blindworm  would  do  as  he 
said.  But  again  a  brilliant  thought  came  to  her. 

"  Nay !  "  she  trilled  gladly.  "  That  you  shall 
never  do.  I  will  never  sleep  again.  I  will  keep 
awake  always,  night  and  day,  with  my  two  bright 
eyes  ever  looking  out  for  danger.  Yes,  yes,  yes  ! 
No  one  shall  ever  catch  me  napping." 

"  You  cannot  help  yourself,"  said  the  Blindworm. 
"  You  cannot  keep  awake.  You  will  drowse  in 
spite  of  everything.  I  shall  yet  find  you  asleep 
some  night,  and  then  beware  ! " 

u  Nay,  nay ! "  warbled  the  Nightingale,  as  she 
flew  away  to  make  herself  fine  for  the  wedding. 
"  I  shall  sing,  sing,  sing  night  and  day  henceforth 
to  keep  myself  awake.  And  thus  I  need  not  fear. 
Farewell-well-well ! " 

And  so  the  Nightingale  went  to  the  wedding 
and  sang  more  sweetly  in  the  bridal  chorus  than 
she  had  ever  sung  before.  And  after  that,  although 
she  was  weary,  oh,  so  weary !  she  sang  all  night 
long,  and  all  the  next  night  and  the  next.  And  so 
she  has  continued  to  sing  ever  since  in  the  lands 


103 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

which  are  blessed  by  her  presence.  For  she  dares 
not  go  to  sleep  even  for  a  single  moment,  know- 
ing that  the  Blindworm  is  ever  ready  to  pounce 
upon  her  and  take  away  the  eyes  which  she  is  now 
enjoying. 


104 


MRS.  PARTRIDGE'S  BABIES 

JONG,  long  ago,  when  the  world  was 
very  young  indeed,  the  Birds  and 
Animals  used  to  send  their  children 
to  school,  to  Mother  Magpie's  kin- 
dergarten. All  the  morning  long  the  babies  learned 
their  lessons  which  it  was  needful  for  them  to 
know.  And  when  the  noon  hour  came  their 
various  mammas  came  to  the  school  bringing 
lunches  for  the  children.  You  can  imagine  how 
gladly  they  were  received  by  the  hungry  little 
scholars. 

One  day  Mrs.  Partridge  was  very  busy  with  her 
house-cleaning,  and  when  the  noontime  came  she 
could  not  leave  her  work  to  go  to  the  school  with 
her  babies'  lunch. 

"  Dear  me,"  she  said,  looking  out  of  the  nest, 
"here  it  is  noon  and  the  little  Partridges  will  be 
so  very  hungry.  But  I  really  cannot  leave  home 
now.  What  shall  I  do  *?  If  only  some  other  mamma 
were  going  that  way." 

She  craned  her  neck  and  looked  eagerly  in  every 
direction.  And  finally  she  spied  Madame  Tortoise 

105 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

plodding  along  towards  the  school,  with  the  lunch 
for  her  little  Turtlets. 

"  Oho,  neighbor,  oho !  Stop  a  minute ! "  cried 
Mrs.  Partridge,  waving  a  wing  at  Tortoise.  "  Are 
you  going  schoolward,  as  I  think  ?  Oh,  dear  Ma- 
dame Tortoise,  if  you  knew  how  busy  I  am  to- 
day. I  don't  think  any  one  was  ever  so  busy  as  I 
am  with  my  house-cleaning.  Will  you  do  me  a 
favor,  please  *?  " 

The  Tortoise  sniffed.  "  Well,  I  am  a  busy  wo- 
man myself,"  she  said,  "  but  I  am  willing  to  oblige 
a  neighbor.  What  is  it  you  wish,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Oh,  thank  you  so  much ! "  cried  the  Partridge. 
"  Dear  Madame  Tortoise,  I  shall  never  forget  your 
kindness.  Now,  will  you  take  this  bunch  of  nice 
wiggly  worms  to  my  little  ones  for  their  lunch  *? 
I  shall  be  so  very  grateful." 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  snapped  the  Tortoise,  who 
was  rather  tired  of  hearing  Mrs.  Partridge's  shrill 
thanks.  "  I  'm  perfectly  willing  to  take  the  lunch, 
since  I  am  going  to  the  same  place.  But  I  don't 
know  your  babies.  What  do  they  look  like, 
ma'am?" 

"  Oh,  that  is  easily  told,"  cried  Mrs.  Partridge. 
"They  are  the  most  beautiful  little  creatures  in 
the  school.  They  are  said  greatly  to  resemble  me. 
You  will  have  no  trouble  in  recognizing  them. 

1 06 


Here  are  some  nice  fat  wiggly  worms  ! 


MRS.  PARTRIDGE'S  BABIES 

When  you  come  to  the  school  just  look  around 
at  all  the  children,  and  pick  out  the  three  most 
beautiful  of  all.  Those  are  certain  to  be  mine. 
Give  them  the  wiggly  worms,  please,  with  my 
love.  And  oh,  thank  you,  Madame  Tortoise,  so 
very  much !  Some  time  I  will  do  as  much  for  you. 
So  neighborly !  Thank  you  ! " 

"  Don't  mention  it ! "  snapped  the  Tortoise  again, 
very  much  bored  by  all  this  chatter.  She  sniffed 
as  she  moved  slowly  along  towards  the  school, 
with  the  second  lunch  carried  carefully  on  her 
broad  shell-back.  "  They  are  nice  fat  worms,"  she 
said. 

Now  when  the  Tortoise  came  to  the  school  it 
was  high  noon,  and  all  the  children  were  waiting 
open-mouthed  for  their  mammas  and  the  lunches 
which  they  expected.  Such  rows  and  rows  of  wide 
hungry  mouths !  Madame  Tortoise  moved  slowly 
up  and  down  and  round  and  round,  eyeing  the 
various  children  who  begged  for  the  nice  wiggly 
worms.  "  H'm !  "  she  said  to  herself,  "  hungry 
children  seem  to  look  considerably  alike,  and  none 
of  them  are  so  wondrously  beautiful  when  their 
mouths  are  wide  open  greedily.  I  wonder  which 
are  Mrs.  Partridge's  children.  She  told  me  to  give 
this  lunch  to  the  handsomest  babies  here.  Well, 
I  will,  and  if  I  make  a  mistake  it  will  not  be  my 

107 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

fault.  Hello !  Here  are  my  dear  little  Turtlets ! 
Bless  the  babies,  how  pretty  they  are !  Why,  I 
declare,  I  never  realized  that  they  were  so  hand- 
some. Certainly,  they  are  the  best-looking  children 
in  the  school.  Then  I  must  give  them  Mrs.  Par- 
tridge's luncheon,  for  so  I  promised.  Yes,  my  little 
ones,  here  is  your  lunch  which  I  brought  for  you. 
And  when  you  have  finished  that,  here  is  another, 
some  nice,  fat,  wiggly  worms  which  mother  col- 
lected on  the  way,  —  a  prize  for  the  handsomest 
children  in  the  school." 

So  the  little  Turtlets  fared  wonderfully  well  that 
day ;  but  the  poor  little  Partridges  went  hungry, 
and  had  dreadful  headaches,  and  went  home  peep- 
ing sadly  to  their  silly  mother.  And  Mrs.  Partridge 
had  no  more  sense  than  to  be  angry  with  Madame 
Tortoise,  which  I  think  was  very  unfair,  don't  you  ? 
For  the  latter  had  only  done  as  she  was  bidden  by 
her  silly  and  conceited  neighbor. 

But  after  that  the  Tortoise  and  the  Partridge 
never  spoke  to  each  other,  and  their  children 
would  not  play  together  at  school. 


108 


THE  EARLY  GIRL 


HERE  were  once  two  girls  who  were 
very  dear  friends,  Zaica  and  Tour- 
tourelle.    One  morning  Zaica  woke 
up  and  said,  "  O  Tourtourelle !     Last 
night  I  had  such  a  strange  dream ! " 

**  And  so  did  I !  "  cried  Tourtourelle.  "  Let  us 
tell  each  other  the  dreams.  But  you  first,  Zaica." 
Zaica  began  to  laugh.  "  I  dreamed  I  was  a 
pretty  bird  with  a  tuft  of  feathers  on  my  head.  I 
could  fly,  and,  O  Tourtourelle !  it  was  great  fun ! 
But  the  most  amusing  thing  of  all  was  that  I  could 
sing  so  finely,  and  mock  all  the  birds  of  the  forest. 
Nay,  I  could  even  imitate  the  sounds  of  animals. 
I  cannot  help  laughing  when  I  think  what  a  jolly 
time  I  had." 

"  Why,  Zai'ca ! "  cried  Tourtourelle,  wondering, 
"I  dreamed  the  very  same  thing.  I  too  was  a 
pretty  little  bird,  and  I  too  could  imitate  all  kinds 
of  sounds  as  I  fluttered  in  the  tree-tops.  Surely, 
the  dream  will  come  true  for  one  of  us.  How 
fine  that  would  be ! " 

"  Yes,  let  it  be  for  the  one  of  us  who  first  rises 
109 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

to-morrow  morning,"  said  Za'ica.  And  so  the  two 
friends  agreed. 

Now  when  it  came  night-time  Zaica  went  to 
bed  very  early,  like  a  wise  little  girl  who  wants  to 
rise  with  the  sun.  But  Tourtourelle  said  to  her- 
self, "  I  know  what  I  will  do,  I  will  not  go  to 
sleep.  I  will  sit  up  all  night,  and  then  I  am  sure 
to  be  the  first  to  rise." 

So  Tourtourelle  perched  herself  on  a  high- 
backed  chair  and  stretched  her  eyes  wide  open. 
For  hours  and  hours  she  sat  there,  growing  more 
sleepy  every  minute.  Towards  morning  she  be- 
gan to  nod ;  she  could  hardly  keep  her  eyes  open, 
though  she  tried  to  prop  the  lids  with  her  finger 
tips.  Finally,  whether  she  would  or  no,  she  fell 
fast  asleep,  poor  little  Tourtourelle,  worn  out  with 
her  long  vigil. 

When  the  first  morning  sunbeam  peeped  into 
the  chamber  Zaica  opened  her  eyes,  refreshed  and 
smiling.  She  sat  up  in  bed  remembering  the 
dream,  and  then  jumped  lightly  to  the  floor.  As 
she  did  so  she  glanced  at  her  feet,  which  felt 
queer.  Wonderful !  They  were  little  bird  claws ! 
She  looked  down  at  herself.  She  was  covered 
with  soft  feathers.  She  tried  to  move  her  arms, 
and  when  she  did  so  she  rose  lightly  from  the 
floor  and  skimmed  out  of  the  window  into  the 

no 


THE  EARLY   GIRL 

garden.  Zaica  had  become  a  pretty  little  bird,  just 
as  she  had  dreamed.  Oh,  how  happy  she  was !  She 
heard  a  Lark  singing  far  up  in  the  sky.  Opening 
her  mouth,  she  warbled  and  trilled  as  well  as  he, 
until  he  dropped  down  quickly  to  the  earth,  think- 
ing it  must  be  his  mate  who  sang  so  sweetly.  She 
spied  a  Chicken  strayed  too  far  from  the  mother 
Hen;  and  chuckling  to  herself  mischievously  she 
imitated  the  warning  cry  of  a  Hawk,  till  the 
Chick  ran  squawking  back  to  the  shelter  of  his 
mother's  wing.  She  heard  a  hound  baying  afar 
off,  and  with  little  trouble  echoed  the  sound  so 
perfectly  that  a  groom  came  running  out  of  the 
stable,  whistling  for  the  dog  which  he  feared  was 
straying  from  the  kennel.  Zaica  found  that  as 
in  her  dream  she  could  imitate  all  the  sounds 
which  she  heard;  and  she  was  so  pleased  that 
she  sang  and  sang  and  sang,  hopping  from  tree 
to  tree,  teasing  the  other  birds  with  her  mockery, 
and  puzzling  them,  too. 

As  for  poor  Tourtourelle,  when  she  waked  it 
was  very  late.  She  yawned  and  rubbed  her  eyes 
languidly,  for  she  was  still  sleepy.  Then  looking 
across  to  Za'ica's  bed  she  saw  that  it  was  empty. 
Her  heart  gave  a  great  thump,  for  she  longed  and 
longed  to  be  a  bird,  but  now  she  feared  that  she 
was  too  late.  In  her  white  gown  she  ran  out  into 

in 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

the  garden  looking  for  Zaica.  But  first  she  saw 
an  old  man  leading  his  cow  to  the  pasture.  And 
to  the  cow  he  said,  "  Coo-roo,  coo-roo  ! "  coaxing 
her  to  hasten. 

"Coo-roo,  coo-roo!"  cried  Tourtourelle,  imi- 
tating him,  she  knew  not  why.  And  as  she  said 
it  she  wondered  at  the  strange  feeling  which  came 
over  her.  For  her  body  felt  very  light  and  it 
seemed  as  if  she  could  fly.  She  looked  down  and 
saw  that  she  was  no  longer  covered  with  a  little 
white  gown  but  with  soft  feathers  of  ashy  gray, 
while  wings  sprouted  from  her  shoulders. 

"  Oh,  I  have  become  a  bird !  "  she  tried  to  say, 
but  all  she  uttered  was  —  "  Coo-roo,  coo-roo ! " 
For  Tourtourelle  was  become  a  beautiful  Turtle- 
Dove,  and  that  is  all  a  Turtle-Dove  can  say. 

"  Coo-roo,  coo-roo  ! "  mocked  a  voice  from  the 
tree.  And  cocking  her  little  reddish  eye  Tour- 
tourelle saw  a  brilliant  Jay  hopping  in  the  branches, 
imitating  a  Dove.  Then  it  was  the  song  of  a 
Wren  that  she  heard,  then  a  Lark,  then  a  Thrush, 
then  a  Sparrow-Hawk, —  all  these  sounds  coming 
from  the  one  little  throat  of  the  happy  bird  on 
that  bough.  Tourtourelle  tried  to  do  likewise,  but 
all  she  could  sing  was  "  Coo-roo !  coo-roo !  "  And 
she  said  mournfully  to  herself:  — 

"It  is  Zaica.   She  was  wiser  than  I,  and  earlier, 

112 


THE  EARLY  GIRL 

and  the  dream  came  true  for  her.  Oh  dear !  Oh 
dear !  "  And  to  this  day  Turtle-Dove  flies  about 
sadly  uttering  her  monotonous  cry,  and  listening 
with  a  longing  that  would  be  envy,  were  she  not 
so  good  a  little  bird,  to  the  chatter  of  her  friend 
the  Jay. 

For  Zaica  the  Jay  is  always  merry,  hopping 
from  tree  to  tree,  playing  her  jokes  upon  the  other 
birds  whom  she  deceives  with  her  wonderful  voice. 
And  she  leads  a  life  so  gay  and  exciting  that  she 
never  finds  time  to  be  sad,  even  over  the  disap- 
pointment of  her  dear  friend,  poor  little  Tour- 
tourelle. 


HOW   THE   BLACKBIRD  SPOILED 
HIS   COAT 


white   as 
meadow. 


NCE  upon  a  time,  our  friend  Black- 
bird, who  comes  first  of  the  feathered 
brothers  in  the  spring,  was  not  black 
at  all.    No,  indeed ;  he  was  white  — 
the    feather-snow    new   fallen    in    the 
There   are   very  few  birds  who  have 


been  thought  worthy  to  dress  all  in  beautiful 
white,  for  that  is  the  greatest  honor  which  a  bird 
can  have.  So,  like  the  Swan  and  the  Dove, 
Master  Whitebird  —  for  that  is  what  they  called 
him  then  —  was  very  proud  of  his  spotless  coat. 

He  was  very  proud  and  happy,  and  he  sang  all 
day  long,  the  jolliest  songs.  But  you  see  he  did 
not  really  deserve  this  honor,  because  he  was  at 
heart  a  greedy  bird ;  and  therefore  a  great  shame 
came  upon  him,  and  after  that  he  was  never  proud 
nor  happy  any  more.  I  shall  tell  you  the  story  of 
how  the  Whitebird  grew  grimy  and  gloomy  as  we 
know  him,  almost  as  black  and  solemn  as  old 
Daddy  Crow. 

Once  upon  a  time,  then,  Master  Whitebird 
114 


THE  BLACKBIRD  SPOILED  HIS  COAT 

was  teetering  on  a  rose-bush,  ruffling  his  beautiful 
white  feathers  and  singing  little  bits  of  poetry 
about  himself  to  any  one  who  would  listen. 

"  Ho-ho,  ho-hee, 
Just  look  at  me  ! " 

he  piped,  and  cocked  his  little  eyes  about  in  every 
direction,  to  see  who  might  be  admiring  his  won- 
drous whiteness. 

But  all  on  a  sudden  his  song  gurgled  down  into 
his  throat  and  choked  itself  still,  and  his  eyes  fixed 
themselves  upon  a  tree  close  by.  It  was  a  dead 
old  tree,  and  there  was  a  hole  in  the  trunk  half- 
way up  to  the  lowest  limb,  a  round  little  hole 
about  as  big  as  your  two  fists. 

Whitebird  had  seen  something  black  pop  into 
that  hole  in  a  sly  and  secret  way,  and  he  began 
to  wonder ;  for  he  was  inquisitive,  as  most  birds 
are.  He  sat  quite  still  on  his  rose-bush  and 
watched  and  watched.  Presently  out  of  the  hole 
popped  a  black  head,  bigger  than  Whitebird's, 
with  two  wise  little  twinkling  eyes. 

"Oho!"  said  Whitebird  to  himself,  "it  is 
Mother  Magpie  up  to  her  old  tricks,  hiding,  hid- 
ing. Maybe  she  has  a  treasure  hidden  there.  I 
will  watch,  and  perhaps  I  shall  find  out  something 
worth  knowing." 

"5 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

Mother  Magpie  was  the  wisest  and  the  slyest 
of  all  the  birds,  and  it  was  always  worth  while,  as 
Whitebird  knew,  to  take  lessons  of  her.  So  he 
sat  perfectly  still  until  she  came  cautiously  back 
carrying  something  in  her  beak.  It  was  round  and 
white  and  glinted  like  moonlight.  Whitebird's 
eyes  stuck  out  greedily. 

"  It  is  a  piece  of  silver ! "  he  thought,  but  he  sat 
perfectly  still  until  the  Magpie  had  stowed  the 
coin  safely  in  the  hollow  tree  and  had  hopped 
away  as  if  upon  an  unfinished  errand.  '"  Aha !  there 
is  more  then.  I  will  watch  to  see  what  comes  next," 
said  Whitebird.  And  he  waited. 

Sure  enough.  In  a  little  while  the  Magpie  re- 
turned, this  time  bringing  something  which  glowed 
yellow  like  sunlight. 

"  It  is  a  piece  of  gold ! "  gasped  Whitebird,  and 
his  eyes  bulged  out  like  those  of  lobsters,  he  was 
so  jealous  of  her  luck.  But  he  silently  watched  her 
disappear  into  her  tree-cupboard  and  then  hastily 
depart  as  before  toward  the  mountain.  "What 
comes  next  ?  "  muttered  Whitebird  to  himself.  "  I 
am  dying  to  peep  into  that  hole.  I  cannot  wait 
much  longer." 

Then,  after  a  while,  a  third  time  came  back  the 
Magpie  to  the  dead  tree.  And  lo,  what  she  carried 
in  her  beak  twinkled  and  trembled  and  shone  in 

116 


THE  BLACKBIRD  SPOILED  HIS  COAT 

many  colors,  like  a  drop  of  dew  on  a  velvet  flower- 
cheek.  When  Whitebird  saw  this  sight,  he  nearly 
tumbled  off  his  perch  with  excitement. 

"  It  is  a  diamond !  "  he  cried  aloud ;  "  oh,  it  is  a 
real  diamond  ! " 

At  this  sudden  noise  from  the  rose-bush  Mother 
Magpie's  nerves  were  so  shocked  that  she  dropped 
the  diamond  helter-skelter  into  the  hole.  And  in  a 
moment  she  fell  in  after  it,  out  of  sight.  She  hoped 
that  no  one  had  seen  her,  but  little  Whitebird  knew 
the  place.  He  hopped  after  her  and,  perching  on 
the  edge  of  the  hole,  peered  down  into  the  hollow 
tree.  And  there  he  saw  a  great  heap  of  silver  and 
gold  and  precious  stones,  which  Mother  Magpie 
was  trying  to  cover  with  her  wings. 

"  Oh,  what  a  treasure !  What  a  treasure  ! "  he 
piped  greedily.  "Mother  Magpie,  you  must  tell 
me  where  you  found  it,  that  I  may  go  and  get 
some  for  myself." 

But  Mother  Magpie  refused  to  tell. 

"  Oho ! "  chirped  Whitebird,  angrily ;  "  we  shall 
see  about  that !  Then  I  will  call  in  the  fierce  birds, 
Robber  Hawk  and  Fighting  Falcon  and  the 
bloody  Butcher  Bird,  and  they  will  take  your  trea- 
sure from  you,  and  kill  you,  too,  into  the  bargain. 
What  do  you  think  of  that,  Mother  Magpie  *?  " 

Then  she  was  afraid,  for  she  knew  those  bad 
117 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

birds ;  and  she  saw  that  she  must  trust  her  secret 
with  Whitebird,  since  he  had  already  discovered 
half  the  truth. 

"  Well,  if  you  will  promise  me  not  to  let  any 
one  else  know,  not  even  King  Eagle,  I  will  tell 
you,"  she  said.  So  Whitebird  promised. 

"  Listen,"  said  the  Magpie.  "  You  must  find  the 
cave  which  is  near  the  tallest  oak  on  the  mountain, 
under  the  flat  stone.  In  a  corner  there  is  a  tiny 
hole,  just  big  enough  for  you  or  me  to  pass.  And 
this  is  the  entrance  to  a  passage  which  leads  down 
into  the  cellars  of  the  earth.  And  when  you  have 
gone  down  and  down,  farther  than  any  one  except 
myself  ever  went  before,  you  will  come  to  the  pal- 
ace of  the  King  of  Riches.  It  is  full  of  gold  and 
silver  and  precious  stones  like  these  you  see  here. 
Each  chamber  is  more  beautiful  and  more  tempting 
than  the  last.  But  you  must  not  touch  a  stone  or 
a  single  coin,  or  even  a  little  bit  of  gold-dust,  until 
you  have  seen  the  King.  For  first  you  must  offer 
yourself  to  be  his  servant,  and  then  he  will  be  gen- 
erous ;  then  he  will  let  you  carry  away  as  much 
treasure  as  your  beak  will  hold.  That  is  all  there  is 
to  it.  But  beware,  greedy  Whitebird !  Take  my 
advice,  and  do  not  touch  a  grain  of  treasure  before 
you  see  the  King,  or  great  evil  will  befall  you." 

Whitebird  promised  to  do  as  she  said.  And 
118 


THE  BLACKBIRD  SPOILED  HIS  COAT 

then  away  he  flew  to  the  blue  mountain  and  its 
tallest  oak.  Close  by  the  great  oak,  in  a  lonely 
spot,  he  found  the  flat  rock,  and  under  it  was  the 
cave  where  once  a  bear  had  lived.  Whitebird 
hopped  in  eagerly,  and  away  back  in  one  corner 
of  the  cave  he  found  a  little  round  hole,  as  the 
Magpie  had  said ;  a  hole  not  much  bigger  than  an 
apple.  It  must  have  been  a  tight  squeeze  for  fat 
Mother  Magpie ! 

Whitebird  hopped  through  the  hole  and  found 
himself  in  a  long,  narrow  passage  which  led  down, 
down,  down  into  places  where  his  eyes  were  of  no 
use  at  all.  For  he  was  not  like  Master  Owl,  who 
can  see  better  in  the  dark  than  anywhere  else. 
Blindly  he  hopped  on  and  on,  till  he  came  into  a 
great  cavern,  bright  with  a  white  radiance,  as  if  the 
moonlight  filtered  in  from  somewhere.  It  was  the 
first  room  of  the  King's  palace  of  treasure ;  and  it 
was  all  of  silver,  paved  with  silver,  heaped  with 
silver,  shining  with  silver.  Whitebird's  eyes  glit- 
tered and  he  wanted  to  stop  and  take  some  for 
himself.  But  just  in  time  he  remembered  the  wise 
warning  of  Mother  Magpie  ;  and  so  he  hopped  on 
over  the  silver  pebbles  through  a  silver  door  into 
a  second  room.  And  this  was  flooded  with  yellow 
light  as  of  sunshine,  so  dazzling  that  for  a  mo- 
ment Whitebird's  yellow  eyes  could  see  nothing 

119 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

at  all.  When  he  could  see,  the  place  seemed  full 
of  yellow  eyes  like  his  own,  great  yellow  eyes 
heaped  up  from  floor  to  ceiling.  And  when  he 
became  used  to  this  he  looked  again  and  saw  that 
these  were  golden  coins,  and  that  this  was  a  cav- 
ern all  of  gold. 

Oh,  such  a  wonderful  sight !  Oh,  such  a  golden 
dream!  The  floor  on  which  he  stood  was  deep 
with  gold  dust,  which  squished  between  his  toes 
like  yellow  sand  on  a  sea  beach.  And  then  White- 
bird  lost  his  head  and  went  quite  mad,  forgetting 
the  words  of  wise  Mother  Magpie. 

"  Gold  dust,  gold  dust,  a  treasure  for  me  ! "  he 
sang,  hopping  up  and  down  on  one  leg.  "  I  can 
carry  away  a  great  beakful  of  the  yellow  seeds, 
and  each  one  will  blossom  into  a  golden  flower  for 
me  —  for  me  —  for  me  ! "  He  was  wholly  crazy, 
as  you  see. 

He  thrust  his  bill  deep  into  the  gold  dust  of  the 
floor,  and  greedily  filled  it  more  than  full,  till  it 
dropped  over  his  white,  white  feathers  and  splashed 
his  coat  so  that  he  was  no  longer  a  white  bird  but 
a  yellow  bird.  Oh,  the  silly,  greedy  thing !  But 
there  are  worse  fates  than  being  a  yellow  bird. 

Just  at  this  moment  a  dreadful  roar  echoed 
through  the  caverns  till  they  rumbled  like  an  earth- 
quake, and  into  the  golden  chamber  crashed  a  hor- 

120 


THE  BLACKBIRD  SPOILED  HIS  COAT 

rible  dragon-creature,  the  guardian  of  the  King's 
treasure.  His  eyes  blazed  red  like  coals,  and  from 
his  mouth  came  smoke  and  flame  so  that  the  gold 
melted  before  his  breath.  He  rushed  straight  upon 
poor  little  Whitebird  to  gobble  him  up,  and  as  he 
came  he  roared:  "Thief,  thief!  who  steals  my 
master's  treasure  *?  I  scorch  you  with  my  eye !  I 
burn  you  with  my  breath !  I  swallow  you  into  the 
furnace  of  my  throat.  Gr-r-r-r ! " 

There  seemed  no  chance  for  Whitebird  to  es- 
cape, the  creature  was  so  near.  But  with  a  cry  of 
terror  he  fluttered  and  hopped  away  as  fast  as  he 
could  toward  the  narrow  passage,  through  the  gold 
chamber  and  the  silver  chamber,  leaving  all  the 
treasure  behind.  (Oh,  don't  you  wish  we  could 
have  known  how  the  diamond  chamber  looked, 
with  its  rainbow  light  V) 

Whitebird  hopped  and  fluttered,  fluttered  and 
hopped,  feeling  the  dragon's  hot  breath  close  be- 
hind frizzling  his  feathers  and  blinding  his  eyes 
with  smoke.  He  seemed  like  to  be  roasted  alive 
in  this  horrible  underground  oven.  But  oh,  there 
was  the  hole  close  before  him !  Pouf !  With  a  ter- 
rible roar  the  dragon  snapped  at  him  as  Whitebird 
popped  through  the  hole ;  but  he  got  only  a  mouth- 
ful of  burnt  tail-feathers.  Whitebird  was  safe,  safe 
in  the  narrow  passage  where  the  dragon  could  not 

121 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

follow.  Up  and  up  and  up  and  up  he  feebly  flut- 
tered into  the  light  of  the  dear  outside  worfd,  and 
then  he  gave  a  chirp  of  joy  to  find  that  he  really 
had  escaped.  But  oh,  how  tired  and  frightened  he 
was! 

Mother  Magpie  was  sitting  on  a  bush  waiting 
for  him,  for  she  had  guessed  what  would  happen 
to  the  greedy  bird.  And  when  she  saw  him  she 
gave  a  squawk  of  laughter. 

"O  Whitebird,"  she  chuckled,  "what  a  sight! 
what  a  sight !  Your  lovely  coat,  your  spotless 
feathers !  Oh,  you  greedy,  greedy  Blackbird!  " 

Then  he  who  had  been  Whitebird  looked  down 
at  himself  and  saw  what  a  dreadful  thing  had  hap- 
pened. And  he  closed  his  eyes  and  gave  a  hoarse, 
sad  croak.  For  the  smoke  and  flame  of  the  dra- 
gon's breath  had  smirched  and  scorched  him  from 
top  to  toe,  so  that  he  was  no  longer  white,  but 
thenceforth  and  forever  Blackbird. 

I  think  Mother  Magpie  must  have  told  the  story 
to  her  children,  chuckling  over  the  greedy  fellow's 
failure.  And  they  told  it  to  the  children  of  sunny 
France,  from  whom  I  got  the  tale  for  you.  So  now 
you  know  why  the  Blackbird  looks  so  solemn  and 
so  sulky  in  his  suit  of  rusty  black  ;  and  why  his 
nerves  are  so  weak  that  if  one  suddenly  surprises 
him,  picking  up  seeds  in  the  field,  he  gives  a  ter- 

122 


THE  BLACKBIRD  SPOILED  HIS  COAT 

rible  scream  of  fright.  For  he  thinks  one  is  that 
dreadful  dragon-creature  who  chased  him  and  so 
nearly  gobbled  him  on  that  unlucky  day,  long 
ago. 

Poor  Brother  Blackbird !  Don't  let  him  know  I 
told  you  all  this ;  it  would  make  him  so  very  much 
ashamed. 


THE   BLACKBIRD  AND   THE  FOX 

JNE  day  Madame  Fox,  who  was  stroll- 
ing along  under  the  hedge,  heard  a 
Blackbird  trilling  on  a  branch.  Quick 
as  thought  she  jumped  and  seized  the 
little  fellow,  and  was  about  to  gobble  him  down 
then  and  there.  But  the  Blackbird  began  to  chirp 
piteously :  — 

"  Oh,  oh,  Madame  Fox !  What  are  you  thinking 
of  ?  Just  see,  I  am  such  a  tiny  mouthful !  And 
when  I  am  gone  —  I  am  gone.  Only  let  me  free 
and  I  will  tell  you  something.  Look  !  Here  come 
some  peasant  women  with  eggs  and  cheese  which 
they  are  carrying  to  the  market  at  Verrieres.  That 
would  be  a  meal  worth  having  !  Only  let  me  go, 
and  I  will  help  you,  Master  Fox." 

The  Fox  saw  that  this  might  be  a  good  plan 
which  the  bird  proposed,  so  she  let  him  go. 

And  what  do  you  think  the  Blackbird  did? 

He  began  to  hop,  hop,  hop  toward  the  women, 

dragging   his   wing   behind   him   as   if   it  were 

broken,  which  is  a  trick  some  birds  know  very  well. 

"  Look  !  "  cried  one  of  the  women,  when  she 

124 


THE  BLACKBIRD  AND  THE  FOX 

caught  sight  of  him.  "Oh,  look  at  the  little 
Blackbird  there !  His  wing  is  broken  and  he  can- 
not fly.  I  shall  try  to  catch  him."  And  she  ran 
as  fast  as  she  could,  making  her  hands  into  a  little 
cage  to  put  over  him.  The  other  women,  too,  set 
down  their  baskets,  for  convenience  —  set  them 
down  right  in  the  middle  of  the  road  —  and  joined 
the  chase  after  the  poor  little  Blackbird,  so  lame, 
so  lame !  But  always,  as  they  came  close  to  him, 
he  managed  to  flutter  out  of  reach. 

Meanwhile,  Madame  Fox  went  round  about  by 
the  hedge  and  came  all  quietly  and  unseen  to  the 
place  where  the  baskets  waited  in  the  road.  And 
oh !  what  a  good  dinner  she  found  there ;  chickens 
and  eggs  and  fresh  cheese  nicely  done  up  for  the 
market.  And  the  greedy  old  lady  ate  them  all  — 
all  the  chickens  and  the  eggs  and  the  cheeses. 
My !  How  fat  she  was  when  all  was  done. 

Now  the  Blackbird  hopped  on  and  on  for  a 
long,  long  way,  until,  by  cocking  his  eye,  he  saw 
that  Madame  Fox  had  finished  her  dinner.  And 
then,  houff!  Up  he  flew,  with  a  jolly  chirp  of 
laughter,  right  over  the  heads  of  the  astonished 
women.  What  of  his  broken  wing  now?  He 
began  to  whistle,  to  sing,  to  chirrup  like  a  crazy 
bird  up  there  in  the  air.  The  women  looked  at 
one  another  sheepishly. 

I25 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

"Ah,  the  wicked  Blackbird ! "  they  said.  "  One 
would  have  thought  that  he  could  not  fly  at  all. 
But  look  at  him,  the  sly  creature !  Oho,  it  is  a 
pretty  trick  he  has  played  us ! " 

They  turned  back  to  where  they  had  left  their 
baskets,  intending  to  start  on  for  the  market. 
But  when  they  came  there  —  well,  well !  What  a 
shame !  —  they  found  the  eggs,  the  chickens,  the 
cheeses  all  gone  —  eaten  up  by  the  greedy  Fox. 
And  then  they  began  to  scold  and  cry. 

"Oh,  what  misfortune!"  they  wailed.  "We 
have  lost  our  eggs,  our  chickens,  and  our  cheeses, 
and  there  is  nothing  left  to  carry  to  market.  We 
have  not  even  a  Blackbird  to  show  for  our  morn- 
ing's work.  Oh  dear !  oh  dear !  It  is  all  the  fault 
of  that  wicked,  deceitful  little  bird." 

And,  instead  of  going  on  to  Verrieres,  they 
turned  about  with  their  empty  baskets  and  went 
back  home,  a  sorry  party,  scolding  and  crying 
all  the  way.  But  long  before  they  reached  their 
homes  and  their  angry  husbands  Madame  Fox  was 
comfortably  snoozing  her  after-dinner  nap  under 
the  hedge ;  while  the  happy  Blackbird  picked  up 
juicy  bugs  in  the  neighboring  meadow,  with  one 
eye  cocked  to  guard  against  being  surprised  a  sec- 
ond time  by  any  bushy-tailed  rogue. 


126 


He  managed  to  flutter  out  of  reach 


THE  DOVE  WHO  SPOKE   TRUTH 

>HE  Dove  and  the  wrinkled  little  Bat 
once  went  on  a  journey  together. 
When  it  came  towards  night  a  storm 
arose,  and  the  two  companions  sought 
everywhere  for  a  shelter.  But  all  the  birds  were 
sound  asleep  in  their  nests  and  the  animals  in 
their  holes  and  dens.  They  could  find  no  wel- 
come anywhere  until  they  came  to  the  hollow 
tree  where  old  Master  Owl  lived,  wide  awake  in 
the  dark. 

"  Let  us  knock  here,"  said  the  shrewd  Bat,  "  I 
know  the  old  fellow  is  not  asleep.  This  is  his 
prowling  hour,  and  but  that  it  is  a  stormy  night 
he  would  be  abroad  hunting.  — What  ho,  Master 
Owl ! "  he  squeaked,  "  will  you  let  in  two  storm- 
tossed  travelers  for  a  night's  lodging  ?  " 

Gruffly  the  selfish  old  Owl  bade  them  enter, 
and  grudgingly  invited  them  to  share  his  supper. 
The  poor  Dove  was  so  tired  that  she  could  scarcely 
eat,  but  the  greedy  Bat's  spirits  rose  as  soon  as  he 
saw  the  viands  spread  before  him.  He  was  a  sly 
fellow,  and  immediately  began  to  flatter  his  host 

127 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

into  good  humor.  He  praised  the  Owl's  wisdom 
and  his  courage,  his  gallantry  and  his  generosity; 
though  every  one  knew  that  however  wise  old 
Master  Owl  might  be,  he  was  neither  brave  nor 
gallant.  As  for  his  generosity,  —  both  the  Dove 
and  the  Bat  well  remembered  his  selfishness  to- 
wards the  poor  Wren,  when  the  Owl  alone  of  all 
the  birds  refused  to  give  the  little  fire-bringer  a 
feather  to  help  cover  his  scorched  and  shivering 
body. 

All  this  flattery  pleased  the  Owl.  He  puffed 
and  ruffled  himself,  trying  to  look  as  wise,  gal- 
lant, and  brave  as  possible.  He  pressed  the  Bat 
to  help  himself  more  generously  to  the  viands, 
which  invitation  the  sly  fellow  was  not  slow  to 
accept. 

During  this  time  the  Dove  had  not  uttered  a 
word.  She  sat  quite  still  staring  at  the  Bat  and 
wondering  to  hear  such  insincere  speeches  of  flat- 
tery. Suddenly  the  Owl  turned  to  her. 

"  As  for  you,  Miss  Pink-eyes,"  he  said  gruffly, 
"  you  keep  careful  silence.  You  are  a  dull  table- 
companion.  Pray,  have  you  nothing  to  say  for 
yourself  ?" 

"  Yes,"  exclaimed  the  mischievous  Bat,  "  have 
you  no  words  of  praise  for  our  kind  host?  Me- 
thinks  he  deserves  some  return  for  this  wonder- 

128 


THE  DOVE   WHO  SPOKE  TRUTH 

fully  generous,  agreeable,  tasteful,  well-appointed, 
luxurious,  elegant,  and  altogether  acceptable  ban- 
quet. What  have  you  to  say,  O  little  Dove  ?  " 

But  the  Dove  hung  her  head ,  ashamed  of  her 
companion,  and  said  very  simply :  — 

"  O  Master  Owl,  I  can  only  thank  you  with  all 
my  heart  for  the  hospitality  and  shelter  which  you 
have  given  me  this  night.  I  was  beaten  by  the 
storm,  and  you  took  me  in.  I  was  hungry,  and 
you  gave  me  your  best  to  eat.  I  cannot  flatter 
nor  make  pretty  speeches  like  the  Bat.  I  never 
learned  such  manners.  But  I  thank  you." 

"What!"  cried  the  Bat,  pretending  to  be 
shocked.  "Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  to  our 
obliging  host  ?  Is  he  not  the  wisest,  bravest,  most 
gallant  and  generous  of  gentlemen  ?  Have  you  no 
praise  for  his  noble  character  as  well  as  for  his 
goodness  to  us  ?  I  am  ashamed  of  you  !  You  do 
not  deserve  such  hospitality.  You  do  not  deserve 
this  shelter." 

The  Dove  remained  silent.  Like  Cordelia  in 
the  play,  she  could  not  speak  untruths  even  for 
her  own  happiness. 

"  Truly,  you  are  an  unamiable  guest,"  snarled 
the  Owl,  his  yellow  eyes  growing  keen  and  fierce 
with  anger  and  mortified  pride.  "  You  are  an  un- 
grateful bird,  Miss,  and  the  Bat  is  right.  You 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

do  not  deserve  this  generous  hospitality  which  I 
have  offered,  this  goodly  shelter  which  you  asked. 
Away  with  you  !  Leave  my  dwelling  !  Pack  off 
into  the  storm  and  see  whether  or  not  your  silence 
will  soothe  the  rain  and  the  wind.  Be  off,  I  say ! " 

"  Yes,  away  with  her ! "  echoed  the  Bat,  flap- 
ping his  leathery  wings.  And  the  two  heartless 
creatures  fell  upon  the  poor  little  Dove  and  drove 
her  out  into  the  dark  and  stormy  night. 

Poor  little  Dove !  All  night  she  was  tossed  and 
beaten  about  shelterless  in  the  storm,  because  she 
had  been  too  truthful  to  flatter  the  vain  old  Owl. 
But  when  the  bright  morning  dawned,  draggled 
and  weary  as  she  was,  she  flew  to  the  court  of 
King  Eagle  and  told  him  all  her  trouble.  Great 
was  the  indignation  of  that  noble  bird. 

"For  his  flattery  and  his  cruelty  let  the  Bat 
never  presume  to  fly  abroad  until  the  sun  goes 
down,"  he  cried.  "  As  for  the  Owl,  I  have  already 
doomed  him  to  this  punishment  for  his  treatment 
of  the  Wren.  But  henceforth  let  no  bird  have 
anything  to  do  with  either  of  them,  the  Bat  or  the 
Owl.  Let  them  be  outcasts  and  night-prowlers, 
enemies  to  be  attacked  and  punished  if  they 
appear  among  us,  to  be  avoided  by  all  in  their 
loneliness.  Flattery  and  inhospitality,  deceit  and 
cruelty,  —  what  are  more  hideous  than  these? 

130 


THE  DOVE  WHO  SPOKE   TRUTH 

Let  them  cover  themselves  in  darkness  and  shun 
the  happy  light  of  day.  As  for  you,  little  Dove, 
let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you  to  shun  the  company 
of  flatterers,  who  are  sure  to  get  you  into  trouble. 
But  you  shall  always  be  loved  for  your  simplicity 
and  truth.  And  as  a  token  of  our  affection  your 
name  shall  be  used  by  poets  as  long  as  the  world 
shall  last  to  rhyme  with  love." 

The  words  of  the  wise  King  Eagle  are  true  to 
this  day.  So  now  you  know  why  a  great  many 
poems  came  to  be  written  in  which  the  rhymes 
dove  and  love  have  not  seemed  to  make  any  par- 
ticular sense. 


THE  FOWLS   ON   PILGRIMAGE 

[NCE  upon  a  time  old  Lady  Fox  was 
very  hungry,  but  she  had  nothing  to 
eat,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  a  din- 
ner to  be  had  anywhere. 
"What  shall  I  do,  what  shall  I  do?"  whined 
the  Fox.  "  I  am  so  faint  and  hungry,  but  all  the 
birds  and  all  the  fowls  are  afraid  of  me  and  will 
not  venture  near  enough  for  me  to  consult  them 
about  a  dinner.  I  have  so  bad  a  name  that  no  one 
will  trust  me.  What  can  I  do  to  win  back  the 
respect  of  the  community  and  earn  a  square  meal  ? 
Ah,  I  have  it !  I  will  turn  pious  and  go  upon  a 
pilgrimage.  That  ought  to  make  me  popular  once 
more." 

So  the  Fox  started  upon  the  pilgrimage.  She 
had  not  gone  very  far  when  she  met  a  Cock, 
but  he  knew  the  character  of  Madame  Fox  too 
well  to  trust  himself  near.  He  flew  up  into  a 
tree,  and  from  that  safe  perch  crowed  jauntily, 
"Good  morning,  Madame  Fox.  Whither  away 
so  fast?" 

The  Fox  drew  down  the  corners  of  her  mouth, 
132 


THE  FOWLS  ON  PILGRIMAGE 

trying  to  look  pious,  and  rolled  up  her  eyes  as 
she  answered  in  a  hollow  voice,  "Oh,  Master 
Cock,  I  am  going  on  a  pious  pilgrimage.  I  am 
sorry  for  my  wicked  life,  and  now  I  am  going  to 
be  good." 

"Ah,"  said  the  Cock,  "I  am  indeed  glad  to 
hear  that!  Going  on  a  pilgrimage,  are  you  ? 
Well,  in  that  case  I  will  go  with  you." 

"Do,  Master  Cock,  do,"  answered  the  Fox  fer- 
vently. "It  will  do  you  good.  Come  sit  upon 
my  broad  back  and  I  will  carry  you." 

The  Cock  thanked  her  and  climbed  upon  her 
back,  and  so  they  proceeded  on  their  pilgrim- 
age together.  After  a  while  they  came  upon  a 
Dove,  which  fluttered  away  hastily  when  she  saw 
old  Lady  Fox,  knowing  too  well  her  wicked 
tricks.  But  the  Fox  called  to  her  in  a  gentle 
voice :  — 

"  Do  not  be  afraid,  O  Dove.  I  know  why  you 
start  at  my  approach.  But  I  have  repented  of  my 
former  sins  and  have  turned  pilgrim.  My  friend, 
the  Cock,  and  I  have  just  started  upon  our  pious 
journey.  Will  you  join  us  ?  " 

When  the  innocent  Dove  saw  the  Cock  upon 
the  Fox's  back  she  thought  that  certainly  every- 
thing must  be  safe,  so  she  answered :  — 

"  Yes,  Madame  Fox,  I  will  go  with  you." 
'33 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

"  Jump  right  up  on  my  back ;  there  is  plenty 
of  room  beside  the  Cock,"  said  the  Fox  cordially. 

A  little  further  on  they  met  a  wild  Duck,  who 
waddled  away  quacking  wildly  when  he  saw  the 
Fox  trotting  towards  him.  But  the  sly  old  lady 
called  out  to  him,  smiling :  — 

"  Be  calm,  little  brother.  I  have  given  up  my 
former  unkind  tricks,  for  which  I  sadly  repent, 
and  now  I  am  going  on  a  pious  pilgrimage.  See, 
your  friends  the  Cock  and  the  Dove  are  my  com- 
panions." 

"  In  that  case  I  will  go  along,  too,"  said  the 
Duck,  "  for  you  have  a  goodly  party." 

"  That  is  right,"  replied  the  Fox  approvingly. 
"  I  thought  you  would  go.  Kindly  take  a  back 
seat  with  the  others." 

Now  when  these  queer  pilgrims  had  traveled 
for  some  time  they  came  to  a  cave  in  the  rocks,  a 
deep  dark  cave  which  looked  like  a  den.  And 
here  the  Fox  stopped,  saying :  — 

"  Dear  brothers,  it  is  time  that  we  paused  and 
thought  more  carefully  about  our  sins.  We  must 
cross  seas  and  rivers,  and  Heaven  knows  when  we 
shall  reach  the  end  of  our  journey.  Let  us  listen 
to  one  another's  confessions,  for  I  am  sure  we  have 
all  been  miserable  sinners.  Come,  Mr.  Cock,  come 
into  the  cave  with  me  and  I  will  hear  you  first." 

'34 


THE  FOWLS  ON   PILGRIMAGE 

The  Cock  followed  her  into  the  cave,  saying 
with  some  surprise,  "  Why,  Madame  Fox,  what 
have  I  done  that  is  wicked?" 

"Do  you  not  know?"  answered  the  Fox 
sternly.  "  Why,  do  you  not  begin  to  crow  at 
midnight  and  wake  poor  tired  people  out  of  their 
first  sleep  ?  Go  to !  You  ought  to  be  ashamed ! 
Then  again  you  crow  at  the  most  inconveniently 
early  hour  in  the  morning  and  make  the  cara- 
vans mistake  the  true  time,  so  that  they  start 
upon  their  journeys  long  before  the  proper  hour 
and  fall  into  the  hands  of  robbers  who  prowl 
about  before  light.  These  are  dreadful  sins,  Mr. 
Cock,  and  you  deserve  to  be  punished."  So  the 
wicked  old  Fox  seized  the  Cock  and  ate  him 
all  up. 

After  the  Fox  had  finished  him  she  came  to  the 
entrance  of  the  cave  and  called,  "  Now  you  come, 
little  Dove,  and  tell  me  what  you  have  done  that 
is  naughty." 

"  But  I  have  done  nothing,"  said  the  innocent 
Dove,  wondering  very  much ;  "  of  what  evil  do 
you  accuse  me,  Madame  Fox  *?  " 

"  When  the  farmers  sow  their  grain  you  dig  up 
the  yellow  kernels  and  eat  them  for  your  dinner. 
That  is  stealing,  which  is  a  wicked,  wicked  sin,  and 
must  be  severely  punished,"  cried  the  hungry  Fox. 

'35 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

And  thereupon  she  seized  the  poor  little  Dove 
and  ate  her  up. 

Once  more  the  Fox  stood  at  the  door  of  the 
cave,  stealthily  licking  her  chops,  and  she  called 
out  to  the  Duck,  "  Come  in,  Mr.  Duck,  and  I  will 
hear  what  you  have  to  say." 

"  Well,  I  have  not  done  anything  wrong,"  said 
the  Duck  positively,  "  and  you  cannot  say  that 
I  have ;  can  you  now,  Madame  Fox  ?  " 

"  Oh,  indeed  and  indeed  !  "  exclaimed  the  Fox. 
"Have  you  not  stolen  the  king's  gold  crown, 
and  do  you  not  wear  it  on  your  head,  you  wicked 
creature  ?  " 

"  Indeed  and  indeed  I  have  done  no  such  thing. 
It  is  not  true,  Madame  Fox,  as  I  can  prove.  Wait 
a  bit  and  I  will  bring  witnesses." 

So  the  Duck  went  out  and  flew  up  and  down 
in  front  of  the  cave,  waiting.  Presently  along 
came  a  Hunter  with  a  gun,  who  espied  the  Duck 
and  aimed  the  weapon  at  him. 

"Don't  shoot  me,"  cried  the  Duck.  "What 
have  you  against  me,  O  Hunter  *?  I  can  tell  you 
where  to  find  worthier  game.  Come  with  me  and 
I  will  show  you  a  wicked  old  Fox  who  eats  in- 
nocent birds." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  Hunter,  putting  up  his 
gun,  "  show  me  the  place  and  I  will  spare  you." 

136 


THE  FOWLS  ON   PILGRIMAGE 

The  Duck  led  him  softly  to  the  entrance  of  the 
cave,  and  pausing  there  cried  out  to  the  Fox  in- 
side, "  Come  out,  Madame  Fox,  I  have  brought 
the  witness." 

"  Let  him  come  in,  let  him  come  in  !  "  cried  the 
Fox,  for  she  had  grown  very  hungry  indeed  and 
hoped  for  a  double  meal. 

"  No  indeed,"  answered  the  Duck ;  "  he  insists 
that  you  must  come  out."  So  the  Fox  crept 
stealthily  to  the  door,  but  as  soon  as  she  popped 
out  her  wicked  old  head  the  Hunter  was  ready 
for  her,  and  Bang !  That  was  the  end  of  the  Fox's 
pilgrimage. 

The  Duck  also  had  had  enough  of  being  a  pil- 
grim. He  went  home  with  the  Hunter  and  be- 
came a  tame  Duck,  and  lived  happily  ever  after 
on  the  pond  near  the  Hunter's  house. 


THE  GROUND-PIGEON 


INGE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  little 
Malay  maiden  who  lived  in  the  for- 
est with  her  father  and  mother  and 
baby  sister.  They  dwelt  very  happily 
together,  until  one  day  Coora's  father  decided  to 
clear  the  ground  on  tie  edge  of  the  forest  and 
have  a  rice  plantation,  as  many  of  his  neighbors 
were  doing. 

So  one  morning  early  after  breakfast  he  started 
out  with  his  axe  on  his  shoulder  to  cut  down  the 
trees  and  make  a  clearing. 

"  O  Father,  let  me  go  with  you ! "  begged 
Coora.  "  I  do  so  want  to  see  the  plantation  grow 
from  the  very  beginning." 

But  her  father  said  No,  she  must  stay  at  home 
until  the  trees  were  felled. 

"  And  after  that  may  I  go  with  you  *?  "  asked 
Coora.  And  her  father  promised  that  it  should 
be  so. 

The  days  went  by  and  at  last  the  trees  were  all 
felled  in  the  clearing.  When  Coora  heard  this  she 
jumped  up  and  down  on  her  little  bare  brown  feet 

138 


THE  GROUND-PIGEON 

until  her  anklets  tinkled,  and  cried,  "  O  Father ! 
Now  I  may  go  with  you  to  the  clearing,  may  I 
not  ?  For  so  you  promised." 

But  again  her  father  shook  his  head  and  said, 
"No,  Coora,  not  yet.  You  must  wait  until  the 
fallen  timber  has  been  burned  off.  Then  you  shall 
go  with  your  mother  and  me  to  the  planting  of 
the  rice." 

Coora  was  very  much  disappointed,  and  the  big 
tears  stood  in  her  eyes.  But  she  only  said,  "  Do 
you  promise  that  I  may  help  plant  the  rice,  really 
and  truly?" 

And  he  called  back  over  his  shoulder,  "I 
promise ! " 

At  last  the  fallen  timber  was  burned  away,  and 
the  ground  was  ready  for  planting.  One  morning 
Coora  saw  her  father  and  mother  making  ready 
to  go  out  together.  "Oh,  where  are  you  going, 
Father  and  Mother?"  she  asked. 

"  We  go  to  the  planting  of  the  rice,"  answered 
her  father,  slinging  a  big  bag  over  his  shoulder. 

"  But  you  promised  that  I  should  go  with  you 
when  that  time  came?"  cried  Coora  wistfully. 
"  Please,  please  may  I  not  be  your  little  helper  ?  " 

"No,  no,  Coora,"  answered  her  mother  im- 
patiently. "  Do  not  tease  us  so.  You  must  stay 
at  home  to  take  care  of  your  little  sister.  Be  a 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

good  girl  this  time,  and  when  the  rice  is  well 
grown  we  will  all  go  together  and  harvest  it. 
That  will  be  great  fun!" 

"  Shall  I  really  go  *?  Do  you  promise,  Mother  ^  " 
asked  poor  Coora  hopefully,  for  she  felt  sure  that 
her  mother  would  not  deceive  her. 

"  I  promise,"  said  the  mother,  not  looking  her 
in  the  eyes ;  and  the  parents  went  away  through 
the  forest  to  plant  the  rice. 

Time  went  by  until  the  rice  had  grown  tall  and 
was  ready  for  the  harvest.  Now  Coora  heard  her 
parents  talking  of  the  matter,  and  she  was  very 
gay,  for  now  she  expected  a  happy,  happy  day. 
She  dressed  herself  and  made  ready  to  go  to  the 
harvesting,  as  her  parents  had  promised.  But  when 
she  joined  them,  smiling  joyfully,  they  turned 
upon  her  frowning  and  bade  her  return  to  the 
house  and  take  care  of  everything  until  their 
home-coming.  Then  poor  little  Coora  burst  into 
tears  and  said,  "  O  my  Father  and  O  my  Mother, 
I  have  obeyed  you  without  a  word  every  time 
you  broke  your  promise  to  me.  And  still  you 
continue  to  put  me  off  from  day  to  day,  when  this 
is  the  thing  I  long  to  do  so  much  that  it  seems  as 
if  my  heart  would  break.  Think  of  it !  The  clear- 
ing has  been  made,  the  timber  burned,  the  rice 
planted  and  grown,  and  now  it  is  ready  for  the 

140 


THE  GROUND-PIGEON 

harvest.  But  I  have  not  even  seen  the  place 
where  all  this  has  happened.  O  Father  and  Mo- 
ther, why  are  you  so  unkind  to  me  *?  " 

"  There,  there ! "  cried  her  father  and  mother 
together,  "do  not  make  a  fuss  over  so  small  a 
matter.  You  cannot  go  to-day;  but  wait  until  the 
rice  is  gathered  and  it  is  time  to  tread  it  out. 
Then  we  will  let  you  help  us,  you  may  be  sure. 
We  promise,  Coora,  that  you  shall  really  and 
truly  go." 

"  You  promise  ! "  echoed  Coora  bitterly.  "You 
have  promised  me  before  and  nothing  came  of 
it."  But  even  while  she  spoke  the  unkind  parents 
were  gone. 

Then  Coora  fell  to  weeping  most  sorely,  for  she 
knew  that  she  could  not  trust  the  word  of  her 
father  and  mother;  and  that  is  a  most  terrible 
thing.  At  last  she  rose  and  wiped  away  the  tears 
and  looked  about  the  little  cottage  where  she  had 
been  patient  through  so  many  disappointments. 
And  she  said  to  herself,  "  I  can  bear  it  no  longer. 
It  is  not  right  that  I  should  be  made  to  suffer  like 
this  when  a  little  thing  would  make  me  so  happy. 
I  must  see  the  rice  field ;  I  will  go  to-day." 

Coora  tidied  the  cottage,  putting  everything  in 
its  place  and  making  it  look  as  beautiful  as  she 
could.  Then  she  took  up  the  little  sister  who  had 

141 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

fallen  asleep  on  the  floor,  and  kissing  her  tenderly 
placed  her  in  the  hammock  which  swung  from 
wall  to  wall  of  the  hut.  Lastly  Coora  took  off  the 
golden  bracelets  and  earrings  and  the  tinkling 
anklets  which  she  wore  like  other  little  Malay 
girls,  and  left  them  in  a  shining  heap  behind  the 
door.  But  she  kept  her  necklace  about  her  pretty 
little  neck. 

Now  Coora  had  learned  a  little  magic  from  a 
witch,  just  enough  magic  to  serve  her  turn.  She 
went  out  and  picked  two  palm  leaves  which  she 
fastened  on  her  shoulders  and  changed  herself  into 
a  bird,  a  bright,  beautiful  Ground-Pigeon,  with 
many-colored  metallic  feathers.  But  the  necklace 
still  made  a  band  about  her  pretty  little  neck,  as 
you  may  see  on  every  Ground-Pigeon  to  this 
day. 

Coora  the  Ground-Pigeon  fluttered  away 
through  the  forest  until  she  came  to  the  rice 
plantation  where  her  parents  were  at  work.  She 
alighted  on  a  dead  tree  close  by  them  and  called 
out,  "Mother,  O  Mother!  I  have  left  my  ear- 
rings and  bracelets  behind  the  door  and  have  put 
my  little  sister  in  the  hammock." 

Astonished  at  these  words  her  mother  looked 
up,  but  saw  no  one,  only  a  Ground-Pigeon 
perched  on  the  tree  over  her  head.  "Father," 

142 


THE  GROUND-PIGEON 

she  cried  to  her  husband  who  was  at  work  beside 
her,  "  did  you  not  hear  Coora's  voice  just  now  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  thought  so,"  answered  the  father  an- 
grily. "  The  wicked  girl  must  have  disobeyed  me 
and  have  followed  us  here  after  all.  I  will  punish 
her  if  this  is  so."  They  called  to  her,  "Coora, 
Coora ! "  until  the  forest  reechoed.  But  no  one 
appeared  or  answered. 

"  I  will  go  home  and  see  if  she  is  there,"  said 
the  mother.  "  Either  I  heard  Coora  speak  or  there 
is  some  magic  in  the  forest."  And  she  hastened 
back  to  the  cottage.  There  she  found  the  baby  in 
the  hammock  and  the  bracelets  and  earrings  in  a 
shining  heap  behind  the  door,  as  the  voice  had 
said,  but  there  was  no  Coora  anywhere.  Surprised 
and  anxious,  once  more  the  mother  ran  back  to 
the  plantation. 

"  Coora  is  gone,  husband !  "  she  cried.  "  It 
must  have  been  her  own  voice  which  we  heard 
just  now.  Hark !  She  speaks  again ! " 

Again  from  the  tree  they  heard  a  sweet  voice 
calling,  "  Mother,  O  Mother,  I  have  left  my 
earrings  and  bracelets  behind  the  door  and  my 
little  sister  in  the  hammock.  Good-by,  Coo-o- 
o-ra !  "  As  she  spoke  her  own  name  Coora's  voice 
warbled  and  crooned  into  the  soft  coo  of  a  Ground- 
Pigeon's  note,  and  her  parents  glancing  up  saw 

'43 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

that  this  bird  must  be  their  child,  their  Coora, 
magically  changed. 

"  Let  us  cut  down  the  tree  and  catch  the  wicked 
girl ! "  cried  the  father.  And  seizing  his  axe  he 
chopped  away  lustily  until  the  tree  fell  with  a 
crash.  But  even  at  that  moment  the  Pigeon  flut- 
tered away  to  another  tree,  crooning  again  the 
soft  syllables  which  she  has  spoken  ever  since, 
"  Coo-ra,  coo-ra,  coo ! " 

From  tree  to  tree  about  the  rice  plantation  the 
distracted  parents  pursued  the  Pigeon ;  but  it  was 
in  vain  to  try  to  capture  her.  Ever  she  escaped 
them  when  they  seemed  about  to  lay  hands  upon 
her  soft  feathers.  After  following  her  flight  for 
many  miles  they  were  obliged  to  return  home,  sad 
and  sorry  and  repentant.  For  they  knew  now 
that  it  was  their  own  unkindness  and  their  broken 
promises  which  had  driven  their  daughter  away 
from  the  cottage,  never  to  return. 

The  beautiful  Ground-Pigeon  still  lingers  near 
the  rice  plantations  which  she  had  so  longed  to 
visit.  Still  she  plaintively  calls  her  name,  and  still 
she  wears  the  necklace  about  her  pretty  little  neck. 
And  the  little  Malay  maidens  love  her  very  dearly 
because  she  was  once  a  girl  like  them. 


144 


SISTER   HEN  AND   THE  CROCODILE 

(HE  Crocodile  is  one  of  the  hungriest 
bodies  that  ever  lived.  When  he  is 
looking  for  a  dinner  he  will  eat  almost 
anything  that  comes  within  reach. 
Sometimes  the  greedy  fellow  swallows  great  stones 
and  chunks  of  wood,  in  his  hurry  mistaking  them 
for  something  more  digestible.  And  when  he  is 
smacking  his  great  jaws  over  his  food  he  makes 
such  a  greedy,  terrible  noise  that  the  other  animals 
steal  away  nervously  and  hide  until  it  shall  be 
Master  Crocodile's  sleepy-time.  He  is  too  lazy  to 
waddle  in  search  of  a  dinner  far  from  the  river 
where  he  lives.  But  any  animal  or  even  a  man- 
swimmer  had  best  be  careful  how  he  ventures  into 
the  water  near  the  Crocodile's  haunts.  For  what 
seems  to  be  a  greenish-brown,  knobby  log  of  wood 
floating  on  the  water,  has  little  bright  eyes  which 
are  on  the  lookout  for  anything  which  moves. 
And  below  the  water  two  great  jaws  are  ready  to 
open  and  swallow  in  the  prey  of  Mr.  Hungry- 
Mouth. 

But  no  matter  how  hungry  the  Crocodile  may  be, 
H5 


THE   CURIOUS   BOOK   OF   BIRDS 

he  will  not  touch  the  Hen,  even  if  she  should  ven- 
ture into  his  very  jaws ;  at  least,  that  is  what  the 
Black  Men  of  the  Congo  River  will  tell  you.  And 
surely,  as  they  are  the  nearest  neighbors  of  the  big 
reptile  they  ought  to  know  if  any  one  does.  Now 
this  is  the  story  which  they  tell  to  explain  why  the 
Crocodile  will  not  eat  the  Hen. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  Hen,  a  common, 
plump,  clucky  mother  Hen,  who  used  every  day 
to  go  down  to  the  river  and  pick  up  bits  of  food 
on  the  moist  banks,  where  luscious  insects  were 
many.  She  did  not  know  that  this  Congo  River 
was  the  home  of  the  Crocodile,  the  biggest,  fiercest, 
scaliest,  hungriest  Crocodile  in  all  Africa.  But  one 
day  when  she  went  down  to  the  water  as  usual  she 
hopped  out  onto  what  looked  like  a  mossy  log,  say- 
ing to  herself:  — 

"  Aha !  This  is  a  fine  old  timber-house.  It  is  full 
of  juicy  bugs,  I  know.  I  shall  have  a  great  feast ! " 

Tap-tap  !  Pick-pick !  The  Hen  began  to  scratch 
and  peck  upon  the  rough  bark  of  the  log,  but  Oh 
dear  me !  suddenly  she  began  to  feel  very  seasick. 
The  log  was  rolling  over  !  The  log  was  teetering 
up  on  end  like  a  boat  in  a  storm !  And  before  she 
knew  what  was  really  happening  the  poor  Hen 
found  herself  floundering  in  the  water  in  the  very 
jaws  of  the  terrible  Crocodile. 

146 


SISTER  HEN  AND  THE  CROCODILE 

"  Ha,  ha ! "  cried  the  Crocodile  in  his  harsh  voice. 
"  You  took  me  for  a  log,  just  as  the  other  silly 
creatures  do.  But  I  am  no  log,  Mrs.  Hen,  as  you 
shall  soon  see.  I  am  Hungry  Crocodile,  and  you 
will  make  the  fifth  dinner  which  I  have  had  this 
evening." 

The  Hen  was  frightened  almost  to  death,  but 
she  kept  her  presence  of  mind  and  gasped  franti- 
cally as  she  saw  the  great  jaws  opening  to  swallow 
her :  — 

"O  Brother,  don't!" 

Now  the  Crocodile  was  so  surprised  at  hearing 
the  Hen  call  him  Brother  that  he  kept  his  jaws 
wide  open  and  forgot  to  swallow  his  dinner.  He 
kept  them  open  for  some  time,  gaping  foolishly, 
wondering  what  the  Hen  could  mean,  and  how  he 
could  possibly  be  her  brother.  And  by  the  time 
he  had  remembered  how  hungry  he  was,  there 
was  nothing  for  him  to  eat.  For  the  Hen  had 
skipped  away  just  as  fast  as  her  feet  would  take 
her. 

"Pouf!"  snorted  the  Crocodile.  "Her  brother, 
indeed !  I  am  not  her  brother,  and  she  knows  it 
very  well.  What  a  fool  I  was  to  be  caught  by 
such  a  word  !  Just  wait  till  I  catch  her  again  and 
we  will  see.  I  will  brother  her ! "  And  he  swam 
sulkily  away  to  hide  his  mortification  in  the  Congo 

H7 


THE   CURIOUS   BOOK   OF   BIRDS 

mud,  with  only  the  end  of  his  long  nose  poking 
out  as  a  ventilator  for  his  breathing. 

Now,  though  the  Hen  had  had  so  narrow  an  es- 
cape, it  had  not  sufficiently  taught  her  a  lesson.  A 
few  days  afterwards  once  more  she  went  down  to 
the  river,  for  she  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
of  the  bug-dinner  which  she  knew  she  should  find 
there.  But  she  kept  her  eyes  open  sharply  for  any 
greeny  log  which  might  be  floating  on  the  water, 
saying  to  herself,  "  Old  Hungry-Mouth  shall  not 
catch  me  napping  this  time.  I  know  his  wicked 
tricks ! " 

But  this  time  the  Crocodile  was  not  floating  on 
the  water  like  a  greeny  log.  He  was  lying  still  as 
still,  sunning  himself  on  the  river  bank  behind 
some  tall  reeds.  Mrs.  Hen  came  trotting  down  to 
the  water,  a  plump  and  tempting  sight,  cocking 
her  head  knowingly  on  one  side  as  she  spied  a 
real  log  floating  out  beyond,  which  she  took  to 
be  her  enemy.  And  as  she  scratched  in  the  soft 
mud,  chuckling  to  think  how  sly  she  was,  with 
a  rush  and  a  rustle  down  pounced  the  Crocodile 
upon  her,  and  once  more,  before  she  knew  it,  she 
found  herself  in  the  horrid  gateway  of  his  jaws, 
threatened  by  the  double  rows  of  long,  white 
teeth. 

"  Oho ! "  snapped  the  Crocodile.  "  You  shall  not 
148 


««  O  Brother,  don't !" 


SISTER   HEN   AND  THE  CROCODILE 

escape  me  this  time.  I  am  a  log,  am  I  ?  Look 
at  me  again,  Mrs.  Hen.  Am  I  a  log  *?  "  And  he 
came  at  her  to  swallow  her  at  once. 

But  again  the  Hen  squawked,  "  O  Brother, 
don't ! " 

Again  the  Crocodile  paused,  thunderstruck  by 
this  extraordinary  word.  "  Oh,  bother  the  Hen ! " 
he  cried,  "  what  can  she  mean,  really  ?  How  can 
I  be  her  brother?  She  lives  in  a  town  on  the 
land,  and  I  live  in  my  kingdom  of  mud  and 
water.  How  could  two  creatures  possibly  be  more 
unlike  *?  How  "  —  but  while  he  had  been  think- 
ing of  these  hows,  once  more  the  Hen  had  managed 
to  escape,  and  was  pelting  back  to  her  barnyard 
as  fast  as  she  could  go. 

Then  indeed  the  Crocodile  was  angry.  He  de- 
termined to  go  and  see  Nzambi,  the  wise  witch 
princess,  about  the  matter.  She  would  tell  him 
what  it  all  meant.  But  it  was  a  long  journey  to 
her  palace  and  he  was  awkward  and  slow  in  trav- 
eling upon  land.  Before  he  had  gone  very  far  he 
was  tired  and  out  of  breath,  and  stopped  to  rest 
under  a  banana  tree. 

As  he  lay  panting  in  the  shade  he  saw  his  friend 
Mbambi,  the  great  Lizard,  hurrying  past  through 
the  jungle. 

"Oh,  Mbambi!"  cried  old  Hungry-Mouth, 
149 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

"  stop  a  moment.  I  want  to  speak  with  you.  I 
am  in  great  trouble." 

So  the  Lizard  drew  near,  wagging  her  head 
wisely,  for  it  pleased  her  to  be  consulted  by  the 
big  Crocodile.  "What  can  it  be,  dear  friend, 
that  is  troubling  you  this  day  *?  "  she  said  amiably. 
"Surely,  no  one  would  be  so  rude  or  rash  as  to 
offend  the  King  of  Congo  River.  But  tell  me  your 
trouble  and  perhaps  I  can  advise  you." 

"  Listen  to  me,  then,"  said  the  Crocodile.  "  Al- 
most every  day  a  nice  fat  Hen,  —  Oh,  Mbambi ! 
so  delightfully  fat  and  tempting !  —  comes  to  my 
river  to  feed.  AVell,  why  don't  I  make  her  my 
dinner  ?  you  ask.  Now  hearken :  each  time,  just 
as  I  am  about  to  catch  her  and  carry  her  to  my 
home  she  startles  me  by  calling  me  '  Brother'  Did 
you  ever  hear  of  anything  so  maddening  ?  Twice 
I  have  let  her  escape  because  of  the  word.  But  I 
can  stand  it  no  longer,  and  I  am  on  the  way  to 
Princess  Nzambi  to  hold  a  palaver  about  it."  (By 
"palaver"  the  slangy  Crocodile  meant  a  long, 
serious  talk.) 

"  Silly  idiot ! "  cried  the  Mbambi,  not  very 
politely.  "Do  nothing  of  the  kind.  You  will 
only  get  the  worst  of  the  palaver  and  show  your 
ignorance  before  the  wise  Nzambi.  Now  listen 
to  me.  Don't  you  know,  dear  Crocodile,  that  the 

150 


SISTER  HEN   AND  THE  CROCODILE 

Duck  lives  on  the  water,  though  she  is  neither  a 
fish  nor  a  reptile  ?  And  the  Duck  lays  eggs.  The 
Turtle  does  the  same,  though  she  is  no  bird.  The 
Hen  lays  eggs,  just  as  I  do ;  and  I  am  Mbambi, 
the  great  Lizard.  As  for  you,  dear  old  Hungry- 
Mouth,  you  know  that  at  this  moment"  —  here 
she  whispered  discreetly,  looking  around  to  see 
that  no  one  was  listening,  —  "  at  this  moment  in  a 
snug  nest  dug  out  of  the  sand  on  the  banks  of  the 
Congo,  Mrs.  Crocodile  has  covered  with  leaves  to 
hide  them  from  your  enemies  sixty  smooth  white 
eggs.  And  in  a  few  weeks  out  of  these  will 
scamper  sixty  little  wiggly  Crocodiles,  your  dear, 
homely,  scaly,  hungry-mouthed  children.  Yes,  we 
all  lay  eggs,  my  silly  friend,  and  so  in  a  sense  we 
are  all  brothers,  as  the  Hen  has  said." 

"  Sh ! "  whispered  the  Crocodile,  nervously. 
"  Don't  mention  those  eggs  of  mine,  I  beg  of  you. 
Some  one  might  overhear.  What  you  say  is  un- 
doubtedly true,"  he  added  pensively,  after  think- 
ing a  few  moments.  "  Then  I  suppose  I  must 
give  up  my  tempting  dinner  of  Hen.  I  cannot 
eat  my  Sister,  can  I  ?  " 

"  Of  course  you  cannot,"  said  the  Mbambi,  as 
he  rustled  away  through  the  jungle.  "  We  can't 
have  everything  we  want  in  this  world." 

"  No,  I  see  we  cannot,"  sighed  the  Crocodile, 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

as  he  waddled  back  towards  the  banks  of  the 
Congo.  Now  in  the  same  old  spot  he  found  the 
Hen,  who  had  been  improving  his  absence  by 
greedily  stuffing  herself  on  beetle-bugs,  flies,  and 
mosquitoes  until  she  was  so  fat  that  she  could  not 
run  away  at  the  Crocodile's  approach.  She  could 
only  stand  and  squawk  feebly,  fluttering  her  ridicu- 
lous wings. 

But  the  Crocodile  only  said,  "Good  evening, 
Sister,"  very  politely,  and  passing  her  by  with  a 
wag  of  his  enormous  tail  sank  with  a  plop  into 
the  waters  of  the  Congo. 

And  ever  since  that  time  the  Hen  has  eaten  her 
dinner  in  tranquil  peace,  undisturbed  by  the  sight 
of  floating  log  or  basking  shape  of  knobby  green. 
For  she  knows  that  old  Hungry-Mouth  will  not 
eat  his  Sister,  the  Hen. 


'52 


THE  THRUSH  AND  THE  CUCKOO 

|N  the  wonderful  days  of  old  it  is  said 
that  Christ  and  Saint  Peter  went  to- 
gether upon  a  journey.  It  was  a  beau- 
tiful day  in  March,  and  the  earth  was 
just  beginning  to  put  on  her  summer  gorgeous- 
ness.  As  the  two  travelers  were  passing  near  a  great 
forest  they  spied  a  Thrush  sitting  on  a  tree  singing 
and  singing  as  hard  as  he  could.  And  he  cocked 
his  head  as  if  he  was  very  proud  of  something. 

Saint  Peter  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  and 
said,  "  I  wish  you  a  good  day,  Thrush  ! " 

"  I  have  no  time  to  thank  you,"  chirped  the 
Thrush  pertly. 

"  Why  not,  pretty  Thrush  ?  "  asked  Saint  Peter 
in  surprise.  "  You  have  all  the  time  in  the  world 
and  nothing  to  do  but  sing." 

"  You  mistake,"  cried  the  Thrush.  "  I  am  mak- 
ing the  summer  !  It  is  I,  I,  I  who  make  the  green 
grass  grow  and  the  flowers  bud.  Look,  how  even 
now  the  world  is  growing  beautiful  in  answer  to  my 
song."  And  the  conceited  little  bird  continued  to 
warble  as  hard  as  he  could,  — 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

"  To-day  I  shall  marry,  I  and  no  other  ! 
To-morrow  my  brother.** 

Christ  and  Saint  Peter  looked  at  each  other  and 
smiled,  then  went  upon  their  way  without  another 
word,  leaving  the  Thrush  to  continue  his  task,  of 
making  the  summer. 

This  was  in  the  morning.  But  before  midday 
the  clouds  gathered  and  the  sky  darkened,  and 
at  noon  a  cold  rain  began  to  drip.  The  poor 
Thrush  ceased  his  jubilant  song  and  began  to 
shiver  in  the  March  wind.  By  night  the  snow 
was  falling  thick  and  fast,  and  where  there  had 
been  a  green  carpet  on  the  earth  was  now  spread 
a  coverlet  of  snowy  white.  Shivering  and  like  to 
die  of  cold  the  Thrush  took  refuge  under  the  tree 
in  the  moss  and  dead  leaves.  He  thought  no 
more  of  his  marriage,  nor  of  his  brother's,  but  only 
of  the  danger  which  threatened  him,  and  of  the 
discomfort. 

The  next  morning  Christ  and  Saint  Peter,  plod- 
ding through  the  snow-drifts, came  upon  him  again, 
and  Saint  Peter  said  as  before,  "  I  wish  you  good 
day,  Thrush." 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  the  Thrush  humbly,  and 
his  voice  was  shaky  with  cold  and  sorrow. 

"  What  do  you  here  on  the  cold  ground,  O 
Thrush-who-make-the-summer,  and  why  are  you 


THE  THRUSH  AND  THE  CUCKOO 

so  sad?  "  asked  Saint  Peter.  And  the  Thrush  piped 
feebly,— 

"  To-day  I  must  die,  I  and  no  other  ! 
To-morrow  my  brother." 

"O  foolish  little  bird,"  said  Saint  Peter.  "  You 
boasted  that  you  made  the  summer.  But  see ! 
The  Lord's  will  has  sent  us  back  to  the  middle  of 
winter,  to  punish  your  boasting.  You  shall  not 
die,  he  will  send  the  sun  again  to  warm  you.  But 
hereafter  beware  how  you  take  too  much  credit 
for  your  little  efforts." 

Since  that  time  March  has  ever  been  a  treach- 
erous and  a  changeful  month.  Then  the  Thrush 
thinks  not  of  marriage,  but  of  his  lesson  learned 
in  past  days,  and  wraps  himself  in  his  warmest 
feathers,  waiting  for  the  Lord's  will  to  be  done. 
He  is  no  longer  boastful  in  his  song,  but  sings  it 
humbly  and  sweetly  to  the  Lord's  glory,  thanking 
him 'for  the  summer  which  his  goodness  sends  every 
year  to  happy  bird  and  beast  and  child  of  man. 

Now  after  this  adventure  with  the  Thrush, 
Christ  and  Saint  Peter  went  upon  their  journey 
for  many  miles.  At  last,  weary  and  hungry,  they 
passed  a  Baker's  shop.  From  the  window  came 
the  smell  of  new  warm  bread  baking  in  the  oven, 
and  Christ  sent  Saint  Peter  to  ask  the  Baker  for  a 


THE   CURIOUS   BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

loaf  But  the  Baker,  who  was  a  stingy  fellow,  re- 
fused. 

"  Go  away  with  you  ! "  he  cried.  "  I  give  no 
bread  to  lazy  beggars  ! " 

"  I  ask  it  for  my  Master,  who  has  traveled  many 
miles  and  is  most  faint  and  weary,"  said  Saint 
Peter.  But  the  Baker  frowned  and  shook  his  head, 
then  strode  into  the  inner  shop,  banging  the  door 
after  him. 

The  Baker's  wife  and  six  daughters  were 
standing  at  one  side  when  these  things  happened, 
and  they  heard  all  that  took  place.  They  were 
generous  and  kind-hearted  bodies,  and  tears  stood 
in  their  eyes  at  the  Baker's  rough  words.  As  soon 
as  he  had  gone  out  they  wrapped  up  the  loaf  and 
gave  it  stealthily  to  Saint  Peter  saying,  — 

"  Take  the  loaf  for  your  Master,  good  man,  and 
may  he  be  refreshed  by  it." 

Saint  Peter  thanked  and  blessed  them  and  took 
the  loaf  to  Christ.  And  for  their  charity  the  Lord 
set  these  good  women  in  the  sky  as  the  Seven 
Stars,  —  you  may  see  them  to  this  day  shining  in 
love  upon  the  sleeping  world.  But  the  wicked 
Baker  he  changed  into  a  Cuckoo ;  and  as  long  as 
he  sings  his  dreary  song,  "  Coo-coo !  Coo-coo !  " 
in  the  spring,  so  long  the  Seven  Stars  are  visible 
in  the  heaven,  so  folk  say. 

156 


THE  OWL  AND  THE  MOON 

[HEN  the  moon  is  round  and  full,  if 
you  look  very  carefully  at  the  golden 
disk  you  can  see  in  shadowy  outline 
the  profile  of  a  beautiful  lady.  She  is 
leaning  forward  as  if  looking  down  upon  our 
earth,  and  there  is  a  little  smile  upon  her  sweet 
lips.  This  fair  dame  is  Putri  Balan,  the  Princess 
of  the  Moon,  and  she  smiles  because  she  remem- 
bers how  once  upon  a  time  she  cheated  old  Mr. 
Owl,  her  tiresome  lover. 

Putri  Balan,  so  they  tell  you  in  Malay,  was 
always  very,  very  beautiful,  as  we  see  her  now. 
Like  all  the  Malay  women,  Putri  Balan  loved 
to  chew  the  spicy  betel-nut  which  turns  one's  lips 
a  bright  scarlet.  It  is  better,  so  they  say,  than  any 
kind  of  candy,  and  it  is  considered  much  nicer 
and  more  respectable  than  chewing-gum.  So 
Putri  Balan  was  not  unladylike,  although  she 
chewed  her  betel-nut  all  night  long. 

Now,  ever  since  the  day  when  Mr.  Owl  care- 
lessly let  the  naughty  little  Wren  escape  from 
prison,  the  shamed  and  sorry  old  fellow  had 

'57 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

never  dared  to  show  his  face  abroad  in  daylight. 
Gradually  his  eyes  grew  blurred  and  blinky,  till 
now  he  could  not  see  anything  by  day,  even  if  he 
were  to  try. 

So  it  happens  that  there  are  many  delightful 
things  about  which  old  Mr.  Owl  does  not  know, 
—  things  which  take  place  while  the  beautiful  sun 
is  shining.  But  also  there  are  marvelous  sights, 
unknown  to  early-sleeping  birds,  which  he  enjoys 
all  by  himself.  For  at  night  his  queer  eyes  are 
wonderfully  strong  and  bright.  All  day  long  he 
sits  in  his  hollow  tree,  but  when  the  other  feathered 
folk  are  drowsing  upon  their  roosts,  or  are  snugly 
rolled  up  in  their  little  nests,  with  their  heads 
tucked  under  their  downy  wings,  old  Mr.  Owl 
puts  on  his  round  spectacles  and  goes  a-prowl- 
ing  up  and  down  the  world  through  the  woods 
and  meadows  (like  Haroun-al-Rashid  in  the 
streets  of  Bagdad),  spying  all  sorts  of  queer 
doings. 

And  this  is  how  old  Mr.  Owl  happened  to  see 
the  fair  Princess  Putri  Balan,  smiling  down  from 
her  moon  upon  the  sleeping  world  of  birds  who 
had  never  seen  her  and  never  would  see  her  in  all 
her  loveliness. 

How  beautiful  she  was !  How  bright  and  won- 
derful! Old  Mr.  Owl  stared  up  in  wide-eyed 

158 


THE  OWL  AND  THE  MOON 

astonishment,  and  then  and  there  fell  in  love  with 
her,  and  resolved  to  ask  her  to  be  his  wife. 

Cramming  on  his  spectacles  more  tightly  and 
ruffling  the  feathers  about  his  neck,  he  flew  up  and 
up  and  up,  as  high  as  ever  he  dared  to  go,  until  he 
was  within  hailing  distance  of  the  moon.  Then 
he  called  out  in  his  softest  tones,  —  which  were 
harsh  enough  to  any  ears,  — 

"O  fair  Moon-Maiden,  O  beautiful  Princess, 
will  you  marry  me  *?  For  I  love  you  very  dearly." 

The  Princess  Putri  Balan  stopped  chewing  her 
betel-nut  for  a  moment  and  looked  down  to  see 
what  daring  creature  might  thus  be  addressing 
her.  Soon  she  spied  Mr.  Owl  with  his  goggle- 
eyes  looking  up  at  her  adoringly.  He  was  such  a 
ridiculous  old  creature,  and  his  spectacles  glinted 
so  queerly  in  the  moonlight,  that  Putri  Balan 
began  to  laugh  and  answered  him  not  at  all. 
She  laughed  so  hard  that  she  almost  swallowed 
her  betel-nut,  which  might  have  been  a  serious 
matter. 

Mr.  Owl  continued  to  stare,  for  he  saw  nothing 
funny  in  the  situation.  Again  he  repeated  in  his 
hoarse  voice,  "  O  fair  Moon-Maiden,  O  beautiful 
Princess,  will  you  marry  me  *?  For  I  love  you  very 
dearly." 

Again  the  Princess  laughed,  for  she  thought  it 
'59 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

a  tremendous  joke ;  and  again  she  nearly  choked. 
Mr.  Owl  waited,  but  she  made  him  no  other  an- 
swer. However,  he  was  a  persistent  lover.  All 
night  long  he  went  on  asking  the  same  question, 
over  and  over  again,  until  the  Princess  Putri 
Balan  was  quite  worn  out  trying  not  to  choke 
with  laughter  while  she  chewed  the  betel-nut.  At 
last  she  said  impatiently,  — 

"  O  Mr.  Goggle-Eyes !  Do  give  me  a  moment's 
peace!  You  make  me  laugh  so  that  I  cannot 
chew  my  betel-nut.  Yes,  I  will  say  yes,  if  you 
will  only  leave  me  to  finish  my  betel-nut  undis- 
turbed. I  will  marry  you.  But  you  must  go  away 
until  I  have  quite  done." 

Then  Mr.  Owl  was  filled  with  joy.  "  Thanks, 
thanks,  O  most  gracious  lady ! "  he  said.  "  I  will 
go  away  and  leave  you  to  finish  your  betel-nut 
undisturbed.  But  I  shall  come  again  to-morrow 
night,  and  by  that  time  you  will  have  done  with 
it,  and  then  you  will  be  mine !" 

Mr.  Owl  flew  back  to  his  home  in  the  hollow 
tree,  for  it  was  almost  morning,  and  already  he 
was  growing  so  blind  that  he  could  hardly  find 
the  way.  But  the  Princess  Putri  Balan  went  on 
chewing  the  betel-nut,  and  to  herself  she  said,  — 

"  How  am  I  to  rid  myself  of  this  bore  ?  I  can- 
not chew  this  little  betel-nut  forever ;  there  must 

1 60 


Putri  Balan  began  to  laugh 


THE  OWL  AND  THE  MOON 

be  an  end  to  it  before  long.  Mr.  Owl  will  cer- 
tainly come  again  to-morrow  night,  and  then,  ac- 
cording to  my  promise,  I  must  become  his  wife. 
I  cannot  marry  old  Goggle-Eyes.  Oh  dear !  What 
shall  I  do?" 

As  she  chewed  her  betel-nut  the  Princess  Putri 
Balan  hit  upon  a  plan.  She  would  manage  to  cheat 
old  Mr.  Owl  after  all.  She  would  never  finish  the 
betel-nut !  She  took  the  little  bit  that  remained,  — 
and  it  was  a  dangerously  little  bit,  for  the  Prin- 
cess had  been  chewing  all  night  long,  except 
when  she  was  laughing,  —  and  reaching  out  from 
the  moon  she  tossed  it  down,  down,  down  upon  the 
earth.  At  the  same  time  she  said  a  magic  moon- 
charm:  and  when  the  bit  of  betel-nut  reached 
the  earth,  it  became  a  little  bird,  —  the  same  which 
the  Malay  people  call  the  Honey  Bird,  with  bril- 
liant, beautiful  plumage.  And  the  Princess  Putri 
Balan  cried  out  to  it  from  her  golden  house,  — 

"  Fly  away,  pretty  little  bright  bird !  Fly  as 
far  and  as  fast  as  ever  you  can,  and  keep  out  of 
Mr.  Owl's  way.  For  it  is  you  who  must  save  me 
from  becoming  his  unhappy  wife." 

So  the  Honey  Bird  flew  away,  a  brilliant  streak, 
through  the  Malay  woods,  and  hid  himself  in  a 
little  nest. 

When  night  came  out  stole  Mr.  Owl,  with  his 
161 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

spectacles  in  place,  and  up  he  flew  to  his  Princess, 
whom  he  now  hoped  to  call  his  very  own. 

"  Good  evening,  my  beautiful  Princess  !  "  he 
cried.  "  Have  you  finished  your  betel-nut  at  last, 
and  are  you  ready  to  keep  your  promise  ?  " 

But  the  Princess  Putri  Balan  looked  down  at 
him,  pretending  to  be  sad,  though  there  was  a 
twinkle  in  her  beautiful  eye ;  and  she  said,  — 

"Alas!  Mr.  Owl,  a  dreadful  thing  has  hap- 
pened. I  lost  my  betel-nut,  before  it  was  quite 
finished.  It  fell  down,  down,  down,  until  I  think 
it  reached  the  earth.  And  I  cannot  marry  you, 
according  to  my  promise,  until  it  is  finished." 

"  Then  it  must  be  found ! "  cried  Mr.  Owl.  "  I 
will  find  it.  My  eyes  are  sharp  at  night  and  no- 
thing escapes  them.  Shine  kindly  on  me,  Princess, 
and  I  will  find  the  betel-nut  for  you,  and  you 
shall  yet  be  mine." 

"  Go  then,  Mr.  Owl,"  said  the  Princess,  smiling 
to  herself.  "  Go  and  look  for  the  betel-nut  which 
I  must  finish  before  I  marry  you.  Search  carefully 
and  you  may  find  it  soon." 

Poor  Mr.  Owl  searched  carefully,  but  he  could 
not  find  the  bit  of  betel-nut.  Of  course  he  could 
not  find  it,  when  it  had  changed  and  flown  away 
as  a  beautiful,  many-colored  bird !  All  that  night 
he  sought,  till  the  sun  sent  him  blinking  to  his 

162 


THE  OWL  AND  THE  MOON 

tree.  And  all  the  next  night  he  sought,  and  the 
next,  and  the  next.  And  he  kept  on  seeking  for 
days  and  months  and  years,  while  the  Princess 
Putri  Balan  smiled  down  upon  him  and  was 
happy  at  heart  because  of  her  clever  scheme. 

Old  Mr.  Owl  never  found  out  the  trick,  nor 
suspected  the  innocent  little  Honey  Bird,  whom 
indeed  he  scarcely  ever  saw,  because  it  was  a  sun- 
set-sleeping bird,  while  he  was  a  wistful,  lonely,  sad 
night-prowler.  Up  and  down,  up  and  down  the 
world  he  goes,  still  looking  for  the  betel-nut  of 
the  Princess  Putri  Balan,  which  he  will  never  find. 
And  as  he  flies  in  the  moonlight  he  glances  ever 
longingly  at  the  beautiful  lady  in  the  moon,  and 
sobs  "  Hoo-hoo !  Hoo-hoo ! "  in  grief  and  despair. 
For  after  all  these  centuries  he  begins  to  fear  that 
she  will  never  be  his  wife. 


THE   TUFTED   CAP. 


|NE  dark  night  Master  Owl  left  his 
hollow  tree  and  went  prowling  about 
the  world  as  usual  upon  his  hopeless 
hunt  for  the  Princess's  betel-nut.  As 
soon  as  he  was  out  of  hearing  a  long,  lean,  hun- 
gry Rat  crept  to  the  house  and  stole  the  dainties 
which  the  lonely  old  bachelor  had  stored  away  for 
the  morrow's  dinner.  The  thief  dragged  them 
away  to  his  own  hole  and  had  a  splendid  feast 
with  his  wife  and  little  ones.  But  the  Owl  re- 
turned sooner  than  the  Rat  had  expected,  and  by 
the  crumbs  which  he  had  dropped  upon  the  way 
tracked  him  to  the  hole. 

"Come  out,  thief!"  cried  the  Owl,  "or  I  will 
surely  kill  you.  Come  out  and  return  to  me  my 
morrow's  dinner."  The  Rat  trembled  with  fear  at 
these  threatening  words. 

"  Alas ! "  he  squeaked,  "  I  cannot  do  that,  for 
already  the  dinner  is  eaten.  My  wife  and  hungry 
little  ones  have  eaten  it.  Pity  us,  for  we  were 
starving ! " 

"  Bah ! "  screamed  the  Owl,  "  I  care  little  for 
164 


THE  TUFTED  CAP 

that.  It  is  for  my  dinner  alone  that  I  care.  Since 
you  have  eaten  it  you  shall  certainly  die,"  and  he 
began  to  scratch  fiercely  at  the  mouth  of  the 
hole.  The  Rat  trembled  more  than  ever.  But 
suddenly  he  had  an  idea  which  made  ,his  whiskers 
twitch. 

"  Hold ! "  he  cried.  "  Dear,  good  Master  Owl, 
permit  me  to  live  and  I  will  give  you  something 
which  is  worth  many  dinners,  something  that 
men-creatures  value  very  highly,  and  which  with 
great  labor  and  pain  I  brought  away  from  one 
of  their  dens." 

"Umph!"  grumbled  the  Owl.  "Let  us  see 
what  it  is." 

The  Rat  crawled  timidly  out  of  his  hole  with 
the  peace-offering ;  and  what  do  you  think  it 
was?  Why,  a  gimlet!  Just  a  plain,  ordinary, 
well-sharpened  gimlet  for  boring  holes. 

"  Hoo ! "  cried  the  Owl.  "  I  don't  think  much 
of  that.  What  is  it  good  for  ?  "  Now  the  Rat  had 
not  the  faintest  idea  as  to  what  the  gimlet  really 
was,  but  he  had  another  idea  instead. 

"That?  Why  — that  — oh,  that  I  That  is  a 
very  valuable  thing.  It  is  able  to  give  you  the 
keenest  delight.  I  will  show  you  how  it  works. 
But  you  must  do  just  as  I  say,  or  it  will  be  of 

165 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

"Hoo!"  cried  the  Owl.  "Continue  with  the 
directions." 

"Well,  first  you  must  stick  the  thing  point 
upwards  in  the  ground  at  the  foot  of  this  tree." 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  Owl,  doing  as  was  sug- 
gested, and  waiting  expectantly  for  the  next  move. 

"  Now  you  must  mount  to  the  top  of  the  tree 
and  slide  down  the  trunk,"  said  the  Rat  solemnly. 
Old  Master  Owl  was  certainly  very  far  from  wise 
that  night,  for  he  obeyed  the  Rat's  word  without 
a  suspicion.  He  flew  to  the  top  of  the  tree,  and 
then,  sitting  back  and  giving  a  warning  cry  of 
"  Hoo-hoo ! "  coasted  down  the  trunk  with  the 
speed  of  lightning.  But  midway  down  he  struck 
a  knot  in  the  tree  and  rolled  heels  over  head.  And 
when  he  reached  the  ground  of  course  he  landed 
fast  upon  the  sharp  point  of  the  gimlet,  just  as 
the  Rat  had  planned. 

With  bloody  head,  and  hooting  with  pain,  the 
Owl  started  off  in  pursuit  of  the  Rat,  resolved  this 
time  to  kill  him  without  fail.  The  Rat  was  nim- 
ble, and  his  fear  added  to  his  speed,  but  at  last 
the  Owl  caught  him.  Ruffled  and  ferocious,  the 
great  bird  was  about  to  tear  him  in  pieces,  when 
the  Rat  once  more  begged  his  life. 

"  It  was  only  a  joke,"  he  cried.  "  Only  a  silly 
joke.  Spare  me  this  once,  dear  Master  Owl,  and 

166 


THE  TUFTED  CAP 

I  will  give  you  something  that  you  really  need. 
Look  at  your  bleeding  head.  You  cannot  go 
about  the  world  with  that  exposed.  Spare  my 
life,  and  I  will  give  you  a  lovely  cap  of  tufted 
feathers  to  hide  the  bite  of  the  wicked  sharp-thing- 
made-by-man.  Pray,  let  me  go,  dear  Master 
Owl." 

The  Owl  considered  for  a  moment,  and  then 
decided  to  accept  the  bargain.  For  he  thought  of 
Putri  Balan,  the  Princess  of  the  Moon,  and  knew 
that  he  should  lose  his  last  chance  to  win  her  if 
she  happened  to  see  him  with  this  ridiculous  wound 
in  his  head. 

So  the  Rat  gave  him  a  nice  cap  of  tufted 
feathers,  which  he  wears  to  this  day ;  and  the  Owl 
let  the  thief  go  free.  But  after  that  there  was  a 
coolness  between  them,  as  you  may  well  imagine. 


167 


THE  GOOD   HUNTER 


JNCE  upon  a  time  there  was  an  Indian 
who  was  a  famous  hunter.  But  he 
did  not  hunt  for  fun;  he  took  no 
pleasure  in  killing  the  little  wild  crea- 
tures, birds  and  beasts  and  fishes,  and  did  so  only 
when  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  have  food  or 
skins  for  his  clothing.  He  was  a  very  kind  and 
generous  man,  and  loved  all  the  wood-creatures 
dearly,  often  feeding  them  from  his  own  larder, 
and  protecting  them  from  their  enemies.  So  the 
animals  and  birds  loved  him  as  their  best  friend, 
and  he  was  known  as  the  Good  Hunter. 

The  Good  Hunter  was  very  brave,  and  often 
went  to  war  with  the  fierce  savages  who  were  the 
enemies  of  his  tribe.  One  sad  day  he  set  forth 
with  a  war  party,  and  they  had  a  terrible  battle, 
in  which  the  Good  Hunter  was  slain,  and  his 
enemies  took  away  his  scalp,  leaving  him  lying 
dead  in  the  forest. 

The  Good  Hunter  had  not  remained  long  cold 
and  lifeless  in  the  shadowy  stillness,  when  the  Fox 
came  trotting  through  the  woods.  "  Alack  and 

168 


THE  GOOD  HUNTER 

alas ! "  cried  the  Fox,  spying  the  body  stretched 
on  the  leaves.  "  Here  is  our  dear  friend,  the  Good 
Hunter,  slain  !  Alack  and  alas !  what  shall  we  do 
now  that  our  dear  friend  and  protector  is  gone  *?  " 

The  Fox  ran  out  into  the  forest  crying  the  death 
lament,  which  was  the  signal  to  all  the  beasts  that 
something  most  sorrowful  had  happened.  Soon 
they  came  flocking  to  the  spot,  all  the  animals  of 
the  forest.  By  hundreds  they  came,  and  surround- 
ing the  body  of  their  friend  raised  the  most  doleful 
howls.  For,  though  they  rubbed  him  with  their 
warm  noses,  and  licked  him  with  their  warm 
tongues,  and  nestled  against  him  with  their  warm 
fur,  they  could  not  bring  him  back  to  warm  life. 

They  called  upon  Brother  Bear  to  speak  and 
tell  them  what  to  do ;  for  he  was  the  nearest  rela- 
tive to  man.  The  Bear  sat  up  on  his  haunches 
and  spoke  to  the  sad  assembly  with  tears  in  his 
eyes,  begging  each  animal  to  look  carefully  through 
his  medicine-box  and  see  whether  there  might  not 
be  some  balm  which  would  restore  the  Good 
Hunter  to  life.  Then  each  animal  looked  care- 
fully through  his  medicine-box  of  herbs  and  heal- 
ing roots,  bark  and  magic  leaves,  and  they  tried 
every  remedy  that  they  knew.  But  nothing 
brought  the  color  to  their  friend's  pale  cheeks,  nor 
light  into  his  eyes.  He  who  had  helped  them  so 

169 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

often  was  helpless  now,  and  they  could  not  aid 
him.  Again  the  kind  beasts  sank  back  on  their 
haunches  and  raised  a  mighty  howl,  a  requiem  for 
the  dead. 

Wild  and  piercing  and  long-drawn,  the  sound 
swept  through  the  forest,  such  a  sound  of  sorrow 
as  had  never  been  heard  before.  The  Oriole,  who 
was  flying  overhead,  heard  and  was  surprised. 
Soon  his  brightness  came  flashing  down  through 
the  leafy  boughs  like  a  ray  of  sunlight  into  the 
gloom  and  darkness  of  the  forest. 

"What  has  happened,  O  four-footed  friends," 
he  asked,  "  that  you  mourn  so  mightily  ^  "  Then 
they  showed  him  the  body  of  the  Good  Hunter 
lying  in  the  midst  of  their  sad  company,  and  the 
Oriole  joined  his  voice  of  sorrow  to  theirs. 

"  O  friend  of  the  birds,"  he  cried,  "  is  there  no 
bird  who  can  aid  you  now,  you  who  have  fed  us  so 
many  times  from  the  door  of  your  generous  wig- 
wam ?  I  will  call  all  the  feathered  tribes,  and  we 
will  do  our  best." 

So  the  Oriole  went  forth  and  summoned  the 
birds  to  the  forest  council.  There  was  a  great  flap- 
ping of  wings,  a  great  twittering  and  chirping, 
questioning  and  exclamation  when  the  birds 
assembled  to  hear  the  sad  news.  Every  one  was 
there,  from  the  tiny  Humming  Bird  to  the  great 

170 


THE  GOOD  HUNTER 

Eagle  of  the  Iroquois,  who  left  his  lonely  eyrie  to 
pay  his  respects  to  the  Good  Hunter's  memory. 
The  poor  little  birds  tried  everything  in  their 
power  to  bring  back  to  life  their  dear  friend. 
With  beak  and  claw  and  tender  wing  they  strove, 
but  all  their  efforts  were  in  vain.  Their  Good 
Hunter  was  dead,  and  his  scalp  was  gone. 

Then  the  great  Eagle,  whose  head  was  white 
with  years  of  wisdom  and  experience,  spoke  to 
the  despairing  assemblage  of  creatures.  From  his 
lofty  perch  above  the  world  the  Eagle  had  looked 
down  upon  centuries  of  change  and  decay.  He 
knew  every  force  of  nature  and  all  the  strange 
things  of  life.  The  hoary-headed  sage  said  that 
the  Good  Hunter  could  not  be  restored  until  his 
scalp  was  found.  Then  all  the  animals  clamored 
that  they  might  be  allowed  to  go  and  seek  for  the 
missing  scalp.  But  to  the  Fox  was  given  this 
honor,  because  he  had  first  found  the  body  of  the 
Good  Hunter  in  the  forest.  The  Fox  set  out  upon 
his  search,  in  his  foxy  way.  He  visited  every 
hen-roost  and  every  bird's-nest,  but  no  scalp  did 
he  find.  "  Of  course  not !  "  screamed  the  birds 
when  he  returned  from  his  fruitless  quest,  "  Of 
course  no  bird  has  taken  the  Good  Hunter's  scalp. 
You  should  have  known  better  than  that,  Master 
Fox." 

171 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

So  the  next  time  a  bird  was  sent  upon  the 
search.  The  Pigeon  Hawk  went  forth,  confident 
that  she  should  be  successful.  But  she  was  in 
such  a  hurry  and  flew  so  fast  that  she  saw  no- 
thing, and  she  too  returned  without  that  for  which 
she  sought.  Then  the  White  Heron  begged  that 
he  might  be  allowed  to  try.  "  For,"  said  he,  "  you 
all  know  how  slowly  I  fly,  and  how  careful  I  am 
to  see  everything." 

"Yes,  especially  if  it  be  something  good  to 
eat,"  chirped  the  saucy  Jay,  "  do  not  trust  him, 
birds,  he  is  too  greedy." 

Yet  the  Heron  was  allowed  to  go.  He  flapped 
away,  slowly  and  sedately,  and  the  Council  sat 
down  to  await  his  return.  But  the  Heron  had  not 
gone  far  when  he  came  to  a  field  of  luscious  wild 
beans ;  and  he  stopped  to  take  a  mouthful  or  two. 
He  ate,  and  he  ate,  and  he  ate,  the  greedy  fellow  ! 
until  he  could  eat  no  more.  And  then  he  was 
sleepy,  so  that  he  slept  and  slept  and  slept.  And 
when  he  awoke  he  was  so  hungry  that  he  fell  to 
eating  again,  while  the  Council  waited  and  won- 
dered and  waited.  At  last  they  grew  impatient  and 
began  to  suspect  that  the  Jay  had  been  right,  which 
was  indeed  the  case.  They  decided  to  wait  no 
longer  for  the  Heron,  who  did  not  return.  Then  the 
Crow  stepped  forward  and  said,  "Let  me  go,  I 

172 


THE  GOOD   HUNTER 

pray  you,  for  I  think  I  know  where  the  scalp  may 
be  found ;  not  in  the  nest  of  a  bird,  not  in  the  den 
of  any  animal,  not  in  the  watery  haunt  of  a  fish.  For 
all  the  creatures  of  earth,  air,  and  water  are  friends 
of  the  Good  Hunter.  It  is  men  who  are  most 
cruel  to  men :  therefore  in  the  tents  of  men  must 
we  look  for  the  missing  scalp.  Let  me  go  to  seek 
it  there,  for  men  are  used  to  see  me  flying  near 
and  will  not  suspect  why  I  come." 

The  Crow  flew  forth  upon  his  errand,  and  be- 
fore long  came  to  the  wigwam  where  lived  the 
warrior  who  had  slain  the  Good  Hunter.  And 
sure  enough,  there,  outside  the  tent,  was  the  scalp 
of  the  Good  Hunter,  stretched  on  a  pole  to  dry. 
The  Crow  flew  near,  and  the  warrior  saw  him,  but 
thought  nothing  of  it,  for  he  was  used  to  seeing 
crows  about  the  camp.  Presently  when  no  one 
was  looking  the  skillful  thief  managed  to  steal  the 
scalp,  and  away  he  flew  with  it  to  the  Council  in  the 
forest.  Great  was  the  rejoicing  of  the  birds  and 
beasts  when  they  saw  that  the  Crow  had  been  suc- 
cessful, and  they  said  more  kind  things  to  him 
than  he  had  heard  for  many  moons.  At  once  they 
put  the  scalp  upon  the  Good  Hunter's  head,  but 
it  had  grown  so  dry  in  the  smoke  of  the  warrior's 
wigwam  that  it  would  not  fit.  Here  was  a  new 
trouble.  What  was  to  be  done  to  make  the  scalp 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

soft  and  flexible  once  more  ?  The  animals  did  their 
best,  but  their  efforts  were  of  no  avail. 

Once  more  the  great  Eagle  came  forward  and 
bade  them  listen. 

"  My  children,"  he  said,  "  my  wings  are  never 
furled.  Night  and  day  for  hundreds  of  years  the 
dews  of  heaven  have  been  collecting  upon  my 
back  as  I  sit  on  my  throne  above  the  clouds.  Per- 
haps this  dew  may  have  a  healing  power  such  as 
no  earthly  fountain  holds.  We  will  see." 

Gravely  the  Eagle  plucked  a  long  feather,  and 
dipping  it  in  the  dew  which  moistened  his  plum- 
age, applied  it  to  the  stiffened  scalp.  Immediately 
it  became  soft,  and  could  be  fitted  to  the  head 
of  the  Good  Hunter  closely  as  when  it  had  first 
grown  there.  The  birds  and  animals  hurried  away 
and  brought  leaves  and  flowers,  bark  and  ber- 
ries and  roots,  which  they  made  into  a  mighty 
healing  balsam  to  bathe  the  poor  head  which  had 
been  so  cruelly  treated.  And  presently  great  was 
their  joy  to  see  a  soft  color  come  into  the  pale 
cheeks  of  the  Good  Hunter,  and  light  into  his 
eyes.  He  breathed,  he  stirred,  he  sat  up  and 
looked  around  him  in  surprise. 

"Where  am  I  ?  What  has  happened?"  he 
asked. 

"You  slept  and  your  friends  have  wakened 


THE  GOOD  HUNTER 

you,"  said  the  great  Eagle  tenderly.  Stand  up, 
Good  Hunter,  that  they  may  see  you  walk  once 
more." 

The  Good  Hunter  stood  up  and  walked,  rather 
unsteadily  at  first,  back  to  his  own  wigwam,  fol- 
lowed by  a  great  company  of  happy  forest  crea- 
tures, who  made  the  sky  ring  with  their  noises  of 
rejoicing.  And  long,  long  after  that,  the  Good 
Hunter  lived  to  love  and  protect  them. 


175 


THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MR.  STORK  AND 
MISS  HERON. 

'HIS  is  a  very  good  story  to  read  at 
night   just    before   going   to    sleep. 
And  if  you  ask  why,  I  must  only 
tell  you  that  you  will  find  out  before 
you  reach  the  end  of  the  tale. 

There  was  once  a  Heron,  a  pretty,  long-legged, 
slender  lady  Heron,  who  lived  in  the  mushy- 
squshy,  wady-shady  swamp.  The  lady  Heron 
lived  in  her  swamp  all  alone,  earning  her  living 
by  catching  little  fish ;  and  she  was  very  happy, 
never  dreaming  that  she  was  lonesome,  for  no  one 
had  told  her  what  lonesome  was.  She  loved  to 
go  wading  in  the  cool  waters ;  she  loved  to  catch 
the  little  fish  who  swam  by  unsuspectingly  while 
she  stood  still  upon  one  leg  pretending  to  think 
about  something  a  thousand  miles  away.  And  she 
loved  to  look  at  her  slender,  long-legged  blue  re- 
flection in  the  water ;  for  the  lady  Heron  was  just 
a  little  bit  vain. 

Now  one  day  Mr.  Stork  came  flying  over  the 
176 


MR.  STORK  AND  MISS  HERON 

mushy-squshy,  wady-shady  swamp  where  the 
Heron  lived,  and  he  too  saw  the  reflection  in 
the  water.  And  he  said  to  himself,  "  My !  How 
pretty  she  is !  I  wonder  I  never  noticed  her  be- 
fore. And  how  lonesome  she  must  be  there  all  by 
herself  in  such  a  nasty,  moist,  mushy-squshy  old 
swamp !  I  will  invite  her  to  come  and  share  my 
nice,  warm,  dry  nest  on  the  chimney-top.  For  to 
tell  the  truth,  I  am  growing  lonely  up  there  all  by 
myself.  Why  should  we  not  make  a  match  of  it, 
we  two  long-legged  creatures  ?  " 

Mr.  Stork  went  home  to  his  house,  which  he 
set  prettily  in  order :  for  he  never  dreamed  but 
that  the  lady  Heron  would  accept  his  offer  at  the 
very  first  croak.  He  preened  his  feathers  and 
made  himself  as  lovely  as  he  could,  and  forthwith 
off  he  flew  with  his  long  legs  dangling,  straight  to 
the  wady-shady  swamp  where  Miss  Heron  was 
standing  on  one  leg  waiting  for  her  supper  to  get 
itself  caught. 

"Ahem!"  croaked  Mr.  Stork,  waving  his 
wing  politely.  "  Good  evening,  Miss  Heron.  Fine 
weather  we  are  having,  eh?  But  how  horribly 
moist  it  is  down  here !  I  should  think  that  your 
nice  straight  legs  would  grow  crooked  with  rheu- 
matism. Now  I  have  a  comfortable,  dry  house  on 
the  roof. " 

177 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

"Pouf!"    grunted  Miss  Heron  disdainfully. 

But  Mr.  Stork  pretended  not  to  hear,  and  went 
on  with  his  remarks,  —  "a  nice  dry  house  which  I 
should  be  glad  to  have  you  share  with  me.  Come, 
Miss  Heron !  Here  I  am  a  lonely  old  bachelor, 
and  here  are  you  a  lonely  old  maid  "  — 

"  Lonely  old  maid,  indeed ! "  screamed  the 
Heron  interrupting  him.  "  I  don't  know  what  it 
is  to  be  lonely.  Go  along  with  you ! "  and  she 
splashed  water  on  him  with  her  wings,  she  was  so 
indignant. 

Poor  Mr.  Stork  felt  very  crestfallen  at  this  re- 
ception of  his  well-meaning  invitation.  He  turned 
about  and  stalked  away  towards  his  nest  upon  the 
roof,  without  so  much  as  saying  good-by  to  the 
lady. 

But  no  sooner  was  he  out  of  sight  than  Miss 
Heron  began  to  think.  He  had  said  that  she  was 
lonely ;  was  she  lonely  *?  Well,  perhaps  he  ought 
to  know  better  than  she,  for  he  was  a  very  wise 
bird.  Perhaps  she  was  lonely,  now  that  she  came 
to  think  of  it.  However,  there  was  no  reason  why 
she  should  go  to  live  in  that  stupid,  dry,  old  nest 
on  the  house-top.  Why  could  he  not  come  to 
dwell  in  her  lovely,  mushy-squshy,  wady-shady 
swamp  ?  That  would  be  very  pleasant,  for  he  was 
a  good  sort  of  fellow  with  nice  long  legs ;  and 

178 


MR.  STORK    AND  MISS  HERON 

there  were  fish  enough  in  the  water  for  two.  Be- 
sides, he  could  then  do  the  fishing  for  the  family ; 
and,  moreover,  there  would  then  be  two  to  admire 
her  reflection  in  the  water.  Yes;  her  mind  was 
made  up.  She  would  invite  him.  She  glanced 
down  at  her  reflection  and  settled  some  of  the 
feathers  which  her  fit  of  temper  had  ruffled  out  of 
order.  Then  off  she  started  in  pursuit  of  Mr. 
Stork. 

Mr.  Stork  had  not  gone  very  far,  for  a  sad,  re- 
jected lover  is  a  dawdling  creature.  And  so  she 
came  up  with  him  long  before  he  was  in  sight  of 
his  nest. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Stork,"  said  the  lady  ner- 
vously. "I  —  I  have  been  thinking  over  what  you 
said  to  me  just  now,  and  I  have  concluded  that 
perhaps  I  was  a  bit  hasty.  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
sir,  I  am  a  trifle  lonely,  now  that  you  suggest  the 
thought  to  me.  And  it  would  be  very  agreeable 
to  have  pleasant  company.  I  am  ready,  sir,  to 
agree  to  your  proposal.  But  of  course  I  cannot 
think  of  changing  my  abode.  My  swamp  is  the 
most  beautiful  home  that  a  maiden  ever  knew,  and 
I  could  not  give  it  up  for  any  one.  As  for  your 
ugly  old  nest  on  the  chimney-top,  bah !  I  cannot 
endure  the  idea  with  patience." 

Mr.  Stork  was  gradually  stiffening  into  an  angry 
179 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

attitude,  but  she  did  not  notice.  "  Now  you  can 
come  and  live  in  my  swamp,"  Miss  Heron  went 
on  warmly,  "and  you  will  be  very  welcome  to 
catch  fish  for  me,  and  to  look  in  my  mirror.  It  will 
be  very  nice  indeed !  " 

"  Nice ! "  croaked  the  Stork,  "  I  should  say  as 
much  !  What  can  you  be  thinking  of,  Miss? 
I  to  give  up  my  comfortable  home  on  the  house- 
top, close  by  the  warm  chimney,  and  go  to  live 
in  that  disgusting  mushy-squshy  bog  of  yours ! 
Ha-ha !  That  is  really  too  ridiculous  !  I  bid  you 
good  morning."  And  with  an  elaborate  bow  he 
turned  his  back  and  flew  away. 

Miss  Heron  flounced  back  to  her  swamp,  mor- 
tified because  she  had  left  it  to  propose  terms  to 
so  ungallant  a  fellow.  But  hardly  had  she  begun 
her  tardy  supper  when  once  more  Mr.  Stork's 
shadow  darkened  the  mirror  before  her,  and  once 
more  she  heard  his  apologetic  croak. 

"  Ahem,  ahem ! "  he  began.  "  I  hope  I  find  you 
well,  Miss  Heron  *?  I  have  been  —  ha  hum !  — 
considering  your  last  most  condescending  words, 
and  I  find  that  I  have  been  hasty.  You  are  so 
good  as  to  express  a  belief  that  I  should  make  a 
pleasant  companion.  So  I  should !  so  I  should ! 
And  as  for  you,"  he  bowed  gallantly,  "  one  can 
readily  imagine  the  charm  of  your  society.  Come, 

1 80 


MR.  STORK  AND  MISS  HERON 

then,  Miss  Heron,  why  should  we  not  make  a 
happy  couple,  if  we  can  only  arrange  this  one  little 
foolish  matter  ?  Be  my  wife :  come  live  with  me 
in  my  lovely  nest." 

But  at  this  word  Miss  Heron  uttered  a  little 
scream  and  cried,  "  Be  off  with  you,  you  villain ! 
Leave  my  premises  instantly ! "  and  she  waved 
herVings  so  fiercely  that  once  more  Mr.  Stork 
took  to  his  and  flapped  away  to  his  home. 

Now  when  he  had  gone  Miss  Heron  found 
that  she  had  been  bad-tempered,  and  she  thought 
how  pleasantly  they  might  have  arranged  the 
matter  if  only  she  had  been  more  moderate.  So 
she  spread  her  beautiful  blue  wings  and  flew  to 
the  housetop  where  Mr.  Stork  lived,  and,  perching 
on  the  chimney,  she  said,  — 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Stork,  I  was  bad-tempered  and  im- 
polite, and  I  beg  your  pardon.  Let  us  be  friends 
once  more.  Leave  this  hot  old  stupid  house-top 
and  come  live  in  my  cool,  moist,  wady-shady 
swamp,  and  I  will  be  your  very  loving  little  wife." 

But  the  Stork  arose  in  his  nest,  flapping  his 
wings  crossly,  and  cried,  "  Be  off,  you  baggage ! 
Don't  come  here  to  insult  my  beautiful  house. 
Be  off,  I  say,  to  your  mushy-squshy,  rheumaticky 
bog.  I  want  no  more  of  you !  " 

So  the  Heron  flew  back  disconsolately  to  the 
181 


THE  CURIOUS   BOOK   OF   BIRDS 

watery  swamp,  where  she  began  to  feel  very 
lonely  indeed.  And  the  Stork,  too,  began  to  feel 
very  lonely  indeed;  and  he  was  sorry  that  he 
had  been  rude  to  a  lady.  Presently,  once  more  he 
came  flapping  to  the  mushy-squshy  marsh,  where 
he  found  Miss  Heron  just  ready  to  go  to  sleep. 

"  Oh,  dear  Miss  Heron !  "  he  cried.  "  I  made  a 
great  mistake,  and  said  things  for  which  I  am 
truly  sorry.  Do  come  to  be  my  loving  wife,  as 
you  promised,  and  we  will  live  happily  ever  after 
on  the  chimney-top,  far  above  the  other  birds. 
And  I  will  never  be  cross  again." 

But  the  Heron  answered,  "  Away  with  you !  I 
want  to  go  to  sleep.  I  am  tired  of  your  croaking 
voice.  Leave  me  alone !  "  So  the  Stork  flew  away 
in  a  huff. 

But  the  Heron  could  not  sleep,  she  was  so 
lonely.  So  she  rose,  and,  flying  through  the  still 
night  air,  came  again  to  the  Stork's  high-built  nest. 

"  Come,  Storkie  dear,"  she  said  in  her  sweetest 
tone,  "come  home  to  your  dear  wife's  house  in 
the  wady-shady,  mushy-squshy  marsh,  and  I  will 
be  good." 

But  the  Stork  pretended  to  be  asleep,  and  only 
snored  in  reply.  So  the  Heron  flew  home  in  a 
huff.  But  the  Stork  could  not  truly  sleep,  he  was 
so  lonely.  So  he  rose,  and,  flying  through  the 

182 


MR.  STORK  AND  MISS   HERON 

still  night  air,  came  again  to  the  Heron's  home  in 
the  marsh. 

"Come,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "Come  home  to 
your  dear  husband's  house,  and  I  will  be  good." 

But  the  Heron  made  no  answer,  pretending  to 
be  asleep.  So  the  Stork  flew  home  in  a  huff. 
But  the  Heron  could  not  truly  sleep,  she  was  so 
lonely.  So  she  rose  at  break  of  day,  and,  flying 
through  the  cool  morning  air,  came  again  to  the 
Stork's  nest. 

"  Come,  Storkie  dear,"  she  said,  "  come  home 
to  your  dear  wife's  house,  and  I  will  be  good." 

But  the  Stork  did  not  answer,  he  was  so  angry. 
So  the  Heron  flew  home  in  a  huff. 

And  if  you  are  not  asleep  when  you  get  as  far 
as  this,  you  may  go  on  with  the  story  by  your- 
self, perfectly  well.  You  may  go  on  just  as  long 
as  you  can  keep  awake.  For  the  tale  has  no  end, 
no  end  at  all.  It  is  still  going  on  to  this  very  day. 
The  Stork  still  lives  lonely  on  his  house-top,  and 
the  Heron  still  lives  lonely  in  her  marsh,  growing 
lonelier  and  lonelier,  both  of  them.  But  because 
they  have  no  tact,  they  are  never  able  to  agree  to 
the  same  thing  at  the  same  time.  And  they  keep 
flying  back  and  forth,  saying  the  same  things 
over,  and  over,  and  over,  and  over.  .  .  . 


THE   PHCENIX 


JN  the  top  of  a  palm  tree,  in  an  oasis 
of  the  Arabian  desert,  sat  the  Phoenix, 
glowering  moodily  upon  the  world 
below.  He  was  alone,  quite  alone,  in 
his  old  age,  as  he  had  been  alone  in  his  youth,  and 
in  his  middle  years;  for  the  Phoenix  has  neither 
mate  nor  children,  and  there  is  never  but  one  of 
his  kind  upon  the  earth. 

Once  he  had  been  proud  of  his  solitariness  and 
of  his  unusual  beauty,  which  caused  such  wonder 
when  he  went  abroad.  But  now  he  was  old  and 
weak  and  weary,  and  he  was  lonely,  oh !  so  lonely ! 
He  had  lived  too  long,  he  thought. 

For  years  and  years  and  years,  afar  and  apart, 
he  had  watched  the  coming  and  going  of  things 
in  the  world.  He  had  seen  the  other  birds  created, 
and  had  watched  them  undergo  strange  changes 
in  form  and  color  until  they  became  as  they  are 
to-day.  He  had  seen  the  hundred  bright  eyes  of 
Argus,'  the  watchman,  set  in  the  Peacock's  tail. 
He  had  seen  the  flaming  heart  of  the  volcano  tamed 
and  quieted  until  it  became  the  flaming  little  Hum- 

184 


THE  PHOENIX 

ming-Bird.  He  had  seen  the  Crow  turn  black  and 
the  Goldfinch  become  a  gaudy  bird,  and  he  knew 
how  and  why  all  these  things  had  come  to  pass. 
For  centuries,  how  many  he  knew  not,  he  had 
watched  the  birds  hatch  out  of  their  little  eggs, 
flutter  their  feeble  little  wings,  fly  away  to  build 
nests  for  their  little  mates,  and  finally  die  and  dis- 
appear as  birds  do,  leaving  no  trace  behind. 

But  the  Phcenix  did  not  die.  He  was  of  differ- 
ent clay  from  these  ordinary  feathered  creatures. 
He  was  the  glorious  bird  of  the  Sun,  the  only 
one,  the  gold-and-crimson  one,  who  when  he  went 
abroad  filled  all  creatures  with  awe  of  his  beauty 
and  wisdom  and  mystery,  so  that  they  dared  not 
come  near,  but  followed  him  afar  off,  hushing 
their  song  and  adoring  silently.  The  Phcenix  fed 
not  on  flowers  or  fruit  or  disgusting  insect-fry,  but 
on  precious  frankincense  and  myrrh  and  odorifer- 
ous gums.  And  the  Sun  himself  loved  to  caress 
his  plumage  of  gold  and  crimson. 

As  for  men,  they  also  had  adored  him  in  time 
past,  and  had  built  temples  in  his  honor.  They 
also  were  puny  mortals,  scarcely  longer  of  life 
than  the  birds  themselves.  The  Phcenix  had  seen 
many  generations  of  men  grow  up,  do  good  or 
evil  deeds,  and  die,  sometimes  leaving  grand  mon- 
uments upon  the  earth,  sometimes  disappearing 

185 


THE   CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

from  knowledge  like  the  very  birds,  leaving 
scarcely  a  trace  behind. 

In  his  time  great  kings  had  lived  and  reigned 
and  turned  to  dust.  Prophets  had  grown  hoary, 
said  their  word,  and  passed  away,  leaving  no  echo. 
Poets  had  sung  and  had  died  singing.  But  the 
Phoenix,  looking  down  from  the  palms  of  his 
desert,  saw  it  all  and  did  not  die. 

All  this  had  been  his  pride  and  honor.  How  he 
had  enjoyed  his  strength,  his  beauty,  his  wisdom, 
and  the  knowledge  that  he  was  honored  and 
adored  by  thousands  who  had  never  even  seen  his 
glory !  But  now,  now  all  was  changed.  He  was 
grown  old  and  tired.  He  felt  his  loneliness  and  he 
longed  to  die. 

His  wings  were  feeble.  Of  late  he  had  not  dared 
to  venture  far  from  the  desert.  He  dreaded  the 
curious  gaze  of  the  other  birds,  who  would  find 
his  beauty  dimmed,  and  would  scorn,  perchance, 
the  faded  glory  which  they  had  once  held  in  awe. 
For  years  he  had  not  ventured  within  sight  of 
men,  and  he  knew  that  most  of  them  had  forgot- 
ten his  existence,  nay,  even  denied  that  he  had 
ever  lived.  He  feared  that  there  might  not  be  a 
single  heart  in  all  the  world  that  thrilled  to  his 
name. 

Thinking  thus  mournfully,  the  Phoenix  sat  upon 
1 86 


THE  PHCENIX 

the  top  of  the  tallest  palm.  His  plumage  of  crim- 
son and  gold  glowed  in  the  last  rays  of  the  setting 
sun.  His  head  was  drooping,  and  his  eye  lustre- 
less. The  joy  of  life  was  gone.  Slowly  the  Sun 
sank  towards  the  horizon,  a  red  eye  fixed  upon 
the  Phoenix  steadily.  Suddenly  across  the  gray 
waste  of  sand  dotted  a  beam  of  light,  intensely 
bright.  A  single  ray  from  that  watchful  Eye 
seemed  to  flame  as  it  reached  the  palm  tree  and 
pierced  to  the  very  heart  of  the  Phoenix.  A  thrill 
ran  through  his  body.  He  drew  himself  together, 
and  his  eye  gleamed  with  new  lustre  as  he  fixed 
it  steadily  upon  the  dazzling  disk  just  touching 
the  horizon.  Dark  stood  the  palm  against  the 
desert,  but  the  Phoenix  was  bathed  in  sudden  light- 
It  was  the  signal,  the  signal  for  which  he  had  been 
waiting,  though  he  knew  it  not.  The  five  hundred 
years  were  ended.  The  mystery  of  his  life  was 
about  to  be  solved. 

As  the  sun  sank  below  the  horizon,  eagerly  the 
Phcenix  set  about  the  task  which  was  before  him. 
At  last  he  might  build  the  nest  which  till  now  he 
had  never  known.  On  the  top  of  the  highest  palm 
he  would  build  it,  that  it  might  receive  from  the 
blessed  East  the  first  beam  of  the  morning  sun. 
Marvelously  strengthened  for  the  task,  back  and 
forth  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  his  wings  of  crim- 

187 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK   OF  BIRDS 

son  and  gold  bore  the  Phoenix  that  night.  For 
this  was  to  be  no  nest  of  sticks  and  straw.  Of  pre- 
cious things  must  it  be  made,  and  well  he  knew 
where  such  were  to  be  found.  Of  silky  leaves  and 
grass  interwoven  with  splinters  of  sandal-wood 
were  the  walls.  Then  on  the  bottom  of  the  nest 
he  laid,  bit  by  bit,  a  pile  of  sweet-smelling  gums, 
cinnamon  and  spice,  spikenard,  myrrh,  camphor, 
ambergris,  and  frankincense,  with  no  meaner 
choice. 

All  night  he  labored,  beak  and  talon,  until  the 
nest  was  ready.  And  as  the  first  tints  of  dawn  be- 
gan to  streak  the  east,  the  Phcenix  rose  once>  high 
into  the  air,  gazing  with  wistful  eyes  over  the 
world  which  he  had  loved;  then,  slowly  sinking 
to  the  palm,  he  poised  his  gorgeous  body  upon 
the  fragrant  nest.  With  wings  spread  wide,  and 
eyes  fixed  eagerly  upon  the  spot  where  the  Sun 
was  sure  to  rise,  he  waited,  waited. 

At  last  the  golden  Eye  appeared.  As  on  the 
night  before,  one  radiant  beam  seemed  to  single 
out  the  lonely  palm.  One  shaft  of  flame  pierced  to 
the  nest  whereon  the  Phoenix  sat.  It  was  the  final 
signal  to  the  Bird  of  the  Sun.  Immediately  the 
great  bird  began  to  fan  the  sweet-smelling  mass 
with  his  wings.  The  burning  ray  grew  brighter, 
—  a  pungent,  wonderful  aroma  of  mingled  fra- 

188 


THE   PHGENIX 

grances  filled  the  air.  Gradually  the  Sun  rose, 
great  and  glorious,  and  as  it  advanced  into  the 
heaven  a  thin  cloud  of  smoke  floated  from  the 
palm  tree,  and  wound  away  across  the  desert  to- 
wards the  east.  Faster  and  faster  fanned  the  great 
wings  of  the  Phoenix,  until  when  the  Sun  shone 
full  down  through  the  palm  tree  top,  the  whole 
mass  burst  into  flame,  in  the  midst  of  which  the 
Phoenix  blended  crimson  and  gold.  High  in  the 
air  rose  the  fire,  diffusing  abroad  all  the  sweet  odors 
of  Araby  the  blest.  For  a  little  while  it  glowed, 
then  gradually  sank,  lower  and  lower,  until  but  a 
pile  of  ashes  remained  at  the  bottom  of  the  nest. 

But  lo !  Was  the  Phoenix  dead  ?  What  was 
this  creature  risen  in  youth  and  beauty  from  the 
ashes  ?  A  bird  like  the  Eagle  in  shape,  but  nobler, 
larger,  stronger,  more  gracious  even  than  the  King 
of  Birds,  a  brilliant  vision  of  crimson  and  gold, 
rose  like  a  flame  from  the  nest,  hung  for  a  mo- 
ment above  the  palm,  looking  eagerly  at  the  Sun, 
which  baptized  him  in  its  splendor.  A  new  Phce- 
nix  lived  in  the  world.  Once  more  the  ancient 
glory  was  renewed.  Once  more  youth,  joy,  and 
hope  sprang  from  the  Phoenix's  ashes  and  re- 
joiced in  the  centuries  of  sunshine  before  him. 
Death  was  indeed  worth  dying  to  make  this  life 
worth  living! 

189 


THE  CURIOUS  BOOK  OF  BIRDS 

Slowly  the  young  Phoenix  descended  to  the 
nest  which  had  been  at  once  a  sepulchre  and 
a  cradle.  Tenderly  careful  of  the  parent  ashes 
which  it  held,  with  lusty  beak  and  talon  he  tore 
the  nest  bodily  from  the  branches,  and  set  out 
upon  his  pious  journey.  He  knew  not  where  he 
went,  nor  why,  but  the  Sun  drew  him  to  the  East. 

As  he  sped,  through  the  sky,  a  flash  of  gold  and 
crimson,  the  lesser  birds  gathered  to  wonder  and 
admire.  Flocks  of  them  followed  at  a  distance,  a 
train  of  worshipers,  chorusing  the  glory  of  the 
new-born  wonder.  He  bore  his  head  high  with  its 
burden,  and  his  heart  was  filled  with  pious  joy. 
It  was  good  to  be  a  Phoenix,  good,  good ! 

At  last  he  reached  the  place  which  unknow- 
ingly he  sought.  The  Sun  alone  had  been  his 
guide.  To  the  city  of  Heliopolis  in  Egypt  he 
came ;  to  the  great  Temple  of  the  Sun,  brightly 
adorned  with  crimson  and  gold,  the  Phoenix  col- 
ors. 

There  upon  the  altar  he  laid  the  precious  ashes. 
And  lo!  There  were  folk  waiting  to  receive 
them,  —  many  little  children,  and  some  elders  of 
childlike  heart,  who  took  the  ashes  and  laid  them 
reverently  in  the  shrine.  The  Phoenix  was  not 
forgotten;  he  was  never  to  be  forgotten  so  long 
as  the  world  should  last. 

190 


THE  PHCENIX 

The  new  Phoenix  flew  back  to  the  Arabian 
desert  to  live  his  five  hundred  years  as  each  of 
his  race  had  done,  sacred,  afar,  and  apart,  but  not 
forgotten,  though  in  his  old  age  he  might  come  to 
deem  so.  For  in  the  bright  Temple  of  the  Sun 
there  are  always  folk  of  childlike  sympathy  who 
delight  to  honor  the  eternal  Phcenix  of  romance 
and  mystery,  —  the  dear,  undying  memory  of  a 
time  long  past. 


191 


fctoertfde 

Electrotyped  and printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &•  Co. 
idft,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


GENERAL  LIBRARY 


—  BERKELEY 


14  DAY  USE 

TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BO 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below, 
or  on  the  date  to  which  renewed.  Renewals  only: 

Tel.  No.  642-3405 

Renewals  may  be  made  4  days  priod  to  date  due. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


1NTER-LIBRAR1 
tBAN 


UCT  5     1972 


DEC  0  7  2 


LD21A-60m-8,'70 
(N8837slO)476— A-32 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


W  XC10334U 


